The Treadmill
by trilobyte
Summary: Before the birth of the Sun and the Moon, when Galadriel was still a girl named Artanis, she became entangled in Feanor’s schemes and the strife between Morgoth and the Valar. Also starring Celeborn and Celebrimbor.
1. Chapter 1

"Galadriel was born in the bliss of Valinor, but it was not long, in the reckoning of the Blessed Realm, before that was dimmed; and thereafter, she had no peace within. For in the testing time, amid the strife of the Noldor she was drawn this way and that. She was proud, strong, and self- willed..."  
  
J.R.R. Tolkien "Unfinished Tales"  
  
I didn't really care much about the Galadriel of "The Lord of the Rings" until I read about her as an unruly teenager in "The Silmarillion" and "Unfinished Tales". Then I was able to go back to LotR and notice that it took Tolkien only a handful of pages to make her more of a three- dimensional character than any of the fellowship except Boromir. Among the various books of the canon, she has at least three different histories; I'm just trying to compromise among them for the most dramatic solution. Wish I were better at adding action! As I am nowhere near as competent at grandiose prose as Tolkien, Lovecraft, or any of the masters, I'm afraid I've left my tale somewhat vernacular. Likewise, for readability, I'm using Sindarin names for all of the characters, although at the time of the story, none of them have ever heard Sindarin (furthermore, the sons of Fëanor probably went by their patronyms, not the matronyms given them in the Silmarillion). I'm afraid my story is still pretty incomprehensible without a Finëwan family tree. There are also many outright apocryphal details in here, in fact, just about everything except the genealogy and the scandal over Fëanor's treatment of Fingolfin. None of this changes the fact that all of the characters belong to the Tolkien estate. I promise to give them right back after I've borrowed them. Enjoy!  
  
***  
  
"Hey, kids, rock and roll! Nobody tells you where to go. baby."  
  
- REM "Drive"  
  
"Artanis?!! You're not supposed to be here!"  
  
The tall elf-maiden straightened abruptly and turned to face her older brother. "Finrod..." she began.  
  
"I felt the upcoming contest to be important to her education, so she is exactly where she should be." The mild voice came from the ground just by Finrod's foot. He started. Finrod looked down into the face of what looked like a fox, although it had to be Olórin, the Maia with whom his younger sister had been sent to study. Olórin was infamous for the variety of shapes with which he chose to embody himself. Never the same twice and never what you expected him to be. Never where you expected him to be either. Finrod could have sworn that not even a fox could have crept up on him unnoticed in this open area.  
  
The other elves in the glen glanced at the group briefly, then returned to stretching, chatting, and otherwise preparing for the race. Finrod looked appropriately abashed. "Excuse me, sir. I'm sorry, little sister... It's just... a surprise to see you here. A nice one, of course!"  
  
Artanis gave in and smiled back at him. "You give me the perfect opening to be angry with you, and then cruelly snatch it away! Perhaps Olórin thought I needed to come back and learn some diplomacy from you! Or is it tact?"  
  
"Enough of the flattery!" A still taller elf, with cords of gold woven into his elaborate braids broke off from one of the groups who had abandoned their warm-up exercises for conversation and embraced Finrod. "Do you mean to run with us, Finrod?"  
  
"I do," Finrod declared, "And it is nice to see you as well. Will your brother be joining us, Fingon?"  
  
"Turgon is feeling the burden of parenthood, I think, but has promised to meet us at the finish line with food and drink. Strong drink, I hope..."  
  
Artanis shook her head, still smiling, and went back to stretching. That was much less awkward than it could have been. Olórin scratched himself then got up and trotted off to watch some of the other elves. After two years, Artanis was still not sure what she was supposed to be learning from him, but he was still far more interesting even than the Valar who had taught her useful skills like weaving, growing fruits and grain, smith-work, hunting, and building in stone. Her new mentor answered her questions with more questions, took her to the far corners of Valinor to see things she'd never seen before, and even had the kindness to let her train for this race and come to Valimar to run it when she'd asked.  
  
She straightened again as another young elf jogged into the glen. "Celebrimbor, dear boy," Fingon greeted him. "Have you come to join us in this glorious contest?"  
  
Celebrimbor grinned at Fingon, blushing. "Ah, no, sir. I've just come to wish Artanis luck."  
  
"How is your family?" Fingon went on, his voice deceptively mild.  
  
"Very well, sir. They are in town for the festival."  
  
Had Fëanor come? Artanis was not sure that she wanted to know the answer. Only recently had her mad uncle been banished from their home city of Tirion for threatening his brother, Fingon's father, with a deadly weapon. But that ban did not extend to Valimar, although it was the home of the Valar who had condemned Fëanor to banishment.  
  
Artanis took Celebrimbor's arm and walked him deliberately away from Finrod and Fingon who, much to her relief, made no effort to follow. "Are you alright?"  
  
Celebrimbor's smile returned, but it no more heartfelt than it had been when Fingon began his interrogation. "Formenos is pretty comfortable, now that the construction's finished, and the exile is only for twelve years. And you won't believe how much I'm learning..."  
  
Artanis stared into his eyes. Celebrimbor was a year older than she, and they had been fast friends before they had been old enough to walk, although his father and she were first cousins. "It's alright, Artanis," he pleaded. "Look, they argue constantly, and no-one outside the family can stand them, but they've never hurt me, hardly even have a harsh word to say to me. And Grandfather's teaching me so many things, you wouldn't believe..." Images filled Artanis' mind: of a lonely fortress in the mountains; of Fëanor standing, with a hammer in his hand, staring raptly into the flames of a forge; her cousins, Celebrimbor's uncles, sitting together at dinner, bickering as they always did, with no women in sight, no children except Celebrimbor; of the star-like glow of the Silmarils...  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, breaking eye contact. "I didn't mean to just rifle your thoughts like..."  
  
Celebrimbor sighed. "It's alright. It's just the way you are; you're worried about me, but now you know, there's nothing to worry about. I'm perfectly alright, and the eccentricities of my relatives haven't rubbed off on me too much, I hope. I haven't even been practicing with weapons, I'll have you know. I think it's all just paranoia and rubbish and it will just blow over. You'll see!"  
  
Artanis shook her head. "Trouble is coming I just know it. So do all the Wise. The Valar aren't saying anything, but they know it too."  
  
Celebrimbor laughed. "From where? Melkor has given up on his empire in Middle Earth; he's happy enough here, and who else could pose a threat to the power of the Valar? Not my poor, crazy grandfather! It's not as if he's ever even hurt anyone!"  
  
"He could have." Artanis' voice was soft. She had been there the day that Fëanor had forced his brother against the wall of their father's house at sword-point, driven the tip far enough into Fingolfin's chest to draw blood. Fingolfin had burned the pierced, bloodstained tunic and publicly forgiven Fëanor, but the Noldor, already unsettled by rumors, continued to divide further into factions. Accepting exile, Artanis realized, had allowed Fëanor to learn just which elves were committed to him and which preferred Fingolfin.  
  
"But it's you I'm worried about." She went on, "Maglor's wife didn't come to Formenos?"  
  
Celebrimbor's smile had become embarrassed again. He sighed again and gave up the smile altogether. "She would have been the only noblewoman there! Maglor still visits her, you know he can't stay with us all the time; we'd drive him crazy. And Aredhel still has us out to hunt, sometimes. She bears us no grudge!" No mention of Celebrimbor's mother or grandmother, Artanis noted grimly.  
  
"I looked forward to racing your uncles, you know." Artanis sprang the trap, and by the misery in Celebrimbor's eyes, she could see that she had her prey.  
  
"They came up for the festival you know, and met up with Fingon last night. They had rather a lot to drink and are in no shape to run today. Neither is he, really, but he doesn't want to let on!" Celebrimbor looked back at Fingon, still chatting with Finrod and a slim Vanyarin woman that Artanis know Finrod was quite smitten with. She felt vaguely disappointed; Celegorm and Maedhros were probably the only Noldorin athletes who could have given her much of a challenge today. And her own twin brothers were missing too, and they would not willingly have missed an evening of drinking with Fingon.  
  
"So you have accounted for Maedhros, Celegorm, and the twins. I know that Maglor and Curufin do not run races. But Caranthir, despite all appearances to the contrary, never drinks to excess. Where is he?" Artanis finally finished closing her trap.  
  
Celebrimbor looked down then smiled weakly back up at her. "I can never fool you, can I? And it has nothing to do with your talent for reading thoughts! Caranthir... picked a fight with Grandfather, and is banned from leaving the house." At Artanis glare, he added, "Oh, it's not as bad as you think! It's just a black eye, and you should have heard what he said! He's quite mad, sometimes, and he's old enough to know better. If he wanted to leave the house, he could, but his pride would never let him! And he's old enough to know better!"  
  
As old as my own father, thought Artanis, and still living with his father, who occasionally knocks him to the floor with his fists. "It's not that I think Fëanor is a danger to you, but why do you want to stay there with them?" She turned to Celebrimbor, who looked away from her. "I know you don't wish to go live with your mother, but if you want to learn things, why not come and stay with my family?" Celebrimbor looked back at her, unhappily, and she pressed on. "The hammer your grandfather uses and your father's... who do you think made them?"  
  
"I always assumed... they'd made them themselves," Celebrimbor faltered.  
  
Artanis smiled at him and shook her head. "Have a look at the maker's mark. My father made them as gifts. He'll probably make one for you, too, when you come of age. When did Fëanor concern himself with making tools? He's fascinated by gold, silver, and jewels. I'm sure he lowered himself to work with common steel to create that outlandish helmet and the sword he threatened Fingolfin with. But my father makes hammers, tongs, anvils, nails, plowshares..." Celebrimbor stared at her with astonishment. "My brothers too," she added, "And Fingolfin's family, to some extent. Haven't you ever wondered what we do? If you like, I'll put in a word with my father for you. Or you could just talk to him yourself, as you've always gotten on well with him. He'll be here at the end of the race."  
  
"If you would... But he's already got company, and I don't wish to intrude."  
  
Just then, a race official called the contestants to the starting line. When Artanis turned back to Celebrimbor, he was hurrying to join the crowd at the sidelines. She took her place at the line and Olórin trotted up beside her.  
  
"So, learned tutor, just what is this race supposed to teach me?" she asked him when he crouched down beside her.  
  
"How to wait," he looked up at her, his fox face unreadable. "But that's a hard lesson and I'm not sure you'll master it very quickly."  
  
The official whistled, piercingly, and it was time to run. 


	2. Chapter 2

Artanis struck the fifth beacon as she ran past it. Celebrimbor would like to know about those, she thought. It was a long race, on a roughly circular track through uninhabited woodlands, so the rules of the race demanded that the racers had to strike each of seven beacons, placed evenly along the track, to prevent anyone from taking shortcuts. The beacons were metallic pyramids almost as tall as an elf, which somehow recorded or reported who had struck them. Even her father probably couldn't make one of these, Artanis thought bitterly. Just one more secret that the Valar didn't teach the elves. Fëanor, now he might have thought of something like this...  
  
Stop thinking about him, she told herself. That's why you agreed to go off and study with Olórin instead of hanging about town with Fingon and the others, because the politics are just more horrible every time you turn around! With Melkor vanquished and reformed, we've no trouble left except what we can make for ourselves. I wonder if the Valar are sorry that they brought us all to Valinor with the things everyone is saying. I wish I could just not listen and not care.  
  
Artanis gritted her teeth and ran faster down the trail, trying to clear her mind. The race wasn't turning out as she had expected at all. Her usual Noldorin rivals, her cousins, were out with hangovers, small children, or black eyes, and Finrod was hanging back, running with that Vanyar woman, Amarië. "It's not about winning or losing, it's about running a good race," the shining-eyed elf had told Artanis. That, thought Artanis, is why none of the Vanyar are running here with me now.  
  
Artanis had sprinted to the first beacon, leaving her competitors behind her. After that, she had taken an easier pace. She had always been a good sprinter, but it had taken months of training to be able to run a track this long. It was at this point that she would be worried about her cousins, particularly Celegorm, catching up and overtaking her, and she had looked forward to testing her newly-developed stamina against theirs, especially if it meant surprising them. But not this time, she thought. Perhaps they'd be at the finish line, and would be surprised to see her win. It wouldn't be the same though, she thought. It wouldn't change anything.  
  
As she came to the top of a hill, she could see the sixth beacon below her, and beyond it, a wide, rushing river. As she ran down the hill, she could see the seventh beacon on the far side of the river. The trail headed along the river, to a bridge, then back to the beacon, and once more into the woods, presumably to the finish line. There was no one else in sight. Artanis struck the beacon, then turned to run along the trail. She would sprint again after the seventh beacon, she told herself, and at least run for time.  
  
She had crossed the bridge and was heading toward the seventh beacon when another elf careened down the hill and stopped against the sixth beacon, looking around. Even at this distance, she could see that his hair was bright silver. He seemed too slight to be one of the silver-haired Telerin princes she knew, her grandfather, Olwë or his heir Galadhon, and neither of them ran races, to the best of her knowledge. The other elf leapt into the river and began to swim across. Artanis swore, and began to sprint. The silver-haired elf was carried some ways downstream by the current, but still reached the seventh beacon before she did, and bolted on into the woods. Artanis struck the seventh beacon and bolted after him, but it was too late. He held onto his lead, not looking back, and tore across the finish line seconds ahead of her. Just as he did, two great wolfhounds jumped upon him and started licking him. He grabbed them by their collars and dragged them to one side of the clearing. As he did this, a sturdy younger boy whose braid were more white than silver rushed up to embrace him.  
  
"You're all wet." Her father walked up to her and offered her his cloak to dry off with. "Did you go in the river too, or were you that hard on his heels all of the way to the finish?" Artanis looked up at him, unable to speak. He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. "I did warn him about you. It's nice to see someone listen to me for once."  
  
"I was wondering if any of them would think to swim!" laughed another voice: Melkor. Artanis looked around. The Valar had arrived. Although they wore elven forms, they were still unmistakable. Olórin said that he'd tried elven forms, but none of them had ever fit.  
  
"I'm just glad he didn't drown. That river is too wide for them, and too fast!" Oromë frowned. "I'm really not sure that those beacons were a very good idea."  
  
Artanis looked down. Olórin stood at her feet, still in fox form. "I suppose that you're going to tell me that it's not about winning or losing, it's about running a good race," she said, her voice shaking.  
  
"No, I wouldn't, because if it weren't about winning or losing, it wouldn't be a race, now would it?" Olórin replied. He cocked his ears to one side. "Go congratulate Celeborn. Find out what this race was about."  
  
Artanis sighed and turned in the direction that Olórin pointed. The silver- haired boy who had won the race was holding the wolfhounds by their collars and talking to the younger boy who had greeted him. Artanis remembered the younger boy as Galathil. He and Celeborn were the sons of Galadhon. "Mother's here. Why d'you think I was late to the starting line?" Celeborn snapped at his brother.  
  
He looked warily up at Artanis as she approached, his eyes startlingly dark against his pale skin and bright hair. Beautiful, she heard him think, and it annoyed her because she wasn't. She had been thought lovely as a child, before she had grown tall and gawky, tall well beyond what was normal for Noldorin women. And after a long race, with her hair falling out of the braids she had so carefully pinned up and damp where he had splattered her with water as she had tried to overtake him...  
  
Celeborn looked away quickly. "Sorry, your father warned me that you take these races very seriously."  
  
"And you don't? You certainly were willing to risk your life for this one." She drew the cloak around herself more closely, relieved to have regained control of her voice. One of the wolfhounds leaned over to sniff her.  
  
"It wasn't as dangerous as it looked. I'm a good swimmer and. I guess I wasn't thinking straight. I was late to the starting line, and I had to get past all of those people. I didn't realize you were still out there until I saw you, and I just sort of. panicked. And I got past you the only way I could think of. I've run this course twice, for practice, and I took the bridge both times." He looked back at her nervously.  
  
"Do you remember me?" asked Galathil. "You came to our house a few years ago."  
  
"I'm surprised that you remember me," Artanis replied. "You were very little." She looked back at Celeborn. "You were away, studying." He nodded.  
  
Artanis felt her hackles rise, as Fëanor came up behind her. "Congratulations," the big Noldo smiled down at Celeborn. "It's nice to see that someone out there can still provide a challenge for our little princess here." Artanis fumed, but did not take her eyes from Celeborn's face.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Celeborn looked up at Fëanor, his face still solemn.  
  
"I understand that you will be in need of a place to stay shortly. May I offer my hospitality? I've just completed a new home, and it's a comfortable place, full of productive activity. A young man like you could learn a lot there."  
  
"You're most kind, sir. But I have commitments that I must honor in the near future and cannot accept your offer."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear it, but perhaps when you're finished with your commitments, you'll let me know..." With a smile and a nod, Fëanor took his leave. Artanis could feel the tension drain from her exhausted muscles.  
  
"He likes you," she told Celeborn, keeping her voice as neutral as he could.  
  
"The patronage of a firebrand like him will not make my life any easier." His dark eyes turned back to her. "My great-uncle, Olwë the king, does not care for scandal, and I have brought enough of it on our house. You haven't heard? My father has disowned me."  
  
Artanis blinked. She hadn't heard; Olwë, king of the Teleri, was very adept at keeping his family troubles quiet and his kingdom peaceful. The Noldo could learn a lot from him, she thought. Their king, Finwë, her paternal grandfather, seemed to do everything he could to make the public rivalry of his sons more embarrassing and more divisive. "What did you do?" she blurted before she could stop herself. Being disowned...  
  
"I'm not sure, but it must have been many things. I don't care for the way he speaks to my mother, and I've said so. I fed his hounds, and now the pesky brutes follow me around and not him. Galathil won't mind him anymore and it's clearly my fault." Celeborn shrugged.  
  
"It's because he just sits about and mopes. Some days, he won't talk to anyone! Celeborn only fed the dogs because he kept forgetting and they'd cry and complain. All his stories of being a great adventurer! He never leaves the house! Why should I listen to him?" Galathil sneered.  
  
Celeborn looked over at the child, his expression unreadable. "Stop that kind of talk or you'll have all kinds of trouble to deal with. I've enough of my own and don't need you in trouble too! Father has to stay home because he's the king's heir now." He turned back to Artanis. "Olwë will provide for me, if only to prevent scandal. I suspect I'll be kept well away from Galathil and Alqualondë, though, bad influence that I am."  
  
Artanis nodded, relieved. An elf without a family would have a hard time making a living on his own, but the Vala wouldn't let anyone starve, and often another family would adopt an elf so abandoned, especially if he was a decent sort of person. But for a prince to be disowned... No common family or even the minor nobility would dare to take him in, for fear of offending his father. And Galadhon was not someone that anyone wanted to offend, from what she could remember of him.  
  
"Your father has been kind enough to let me stay in his house," Celeborn added. "And the money from the race will make me a bit more independent."  
  
"It's for shipwright's tools," Galathil blurted out. Celeborn glared at him, and Artanis held back a grin. It was the first expression she had seen cross his serious face.  
  
"And where will you go in the ship he's going to build?" she asked Galathil.  
  
"Middle Earth!" declared the child, his eyes shining.  
  
"We won't!" said Celeborn firmly. "That's what got Father grounded!"  
  
"It wasn't!" Galathil argued. "That was because of the mutiny!"  
  
Artanis smiled in spite of herself. She had heard rumors of Galadhon's last voyage, before they were drowned out by the calumnies among the Noldor, and her mother would never talk about it... Celeborn glared at her too, his cheekbones reddening, but she smiled all the more. She could feel in her bones that this was going to be interesting. 


	3. Chapter 3

Artanis shouldered one of her bags, looked up the steps to her father's house, then back down the street. It was too late though; the servants had spotted her and rushed down the steps to collect her baggage. She sighed and went in, refusing to let them carry off the bag she had on her shoulder. To make matters worse, her father stood in the hallway.  
  
"Don't even say it," she warned him. "Yes, I've been sent home by another tutor."  
  
"I wasn't going to say it," he replied mildly, "because it isn't your fault. I'd already heard that the Valar will need Olórin's help for awhile."  
  
"And you believe that?!" She began to stomp up the stairs towards her room.  
  
"Yes, as it happens, I do," he called up after her. "Olórin may only be a Maia, but he seems to understand us better than any of them do, and they feel that they need his council."  
  
An hour later, her mood had improved and she ventured downstairs again. "He did sound sorry to send me away, but perhaps he was just being nice."  
  
This made Finarfin laugh. "My dear, among the things I do not expect Olórin to teach you is excessive tact. He says what he means, a wonderful trait that many people fail to appreciate."  
  
Artanis nearly grumbled to her father that no-one ever liked it when she said what she meant, but there was no point to that, as he would only tell her that tact was not what one said but how one said it. Having bitten that complaint back, she forged on. "I suppose I should go to school here in town, then."  
  
Finarfin shook his head. "I looked into that and was sorely disappointed. They aren't offering any subjects that you haven't mastered, except for some astronomy... No, I didn't think so either. However, there is at least one short-term project that you could take over for me..."  
  
She tried to appear enthused. "Absolutely, what do you need me to do?"  
  
Sitting up a little straighter, Finarfin began carefully, "D'you remember that young man from the race, Celeborn?"  
  
She nodded. "He's a cousin of sorts, isn't he? Why didn't I meet him before?" She asked.  
  
"He's a cousin no more. Olwë let Galadhon have his way and disown the boy. Olwë has granted Celeborn what he must consider a princely gift, the valley east of Ringlin."  
  
"Fëanor... Uncle Fëanor, I mean, has a hunting lodge up there, doesn't he?"  
  
Finarfin leaned back and sighed, "He and a bunch of his hangers-on. It was quite a lively place until last year, when he was exiled and chose to move to Formenos. It's a lot further from Ringlin than Tirion was, and I hear that he, his sons, and his friends have new places to hunt that are somewhat more convenient. Ringlin is deserted and likely to remain so. Therefore, I would like you go, collect Celeborn, and bring him back here."  
  
"Is Celeborn at Ringlin now?"  
  
Finarfin nodded, "The point of the gift was to get him out of Alqualondë and keep him out of Alqualondë, which is done. But the boy's not yet forty years old and has no one to talk to for miles. No occupation, either. There's an old road to the sea there, but from before Alqualondë was built, and no one has used it since. You might as well bring him here and he can idle about with your brothers and cousins, or work here with me. At least he'll have company. Few in Alqualondë ever come to Tirion, and I think Celeborn is too sensible to get into much trouble." Finarfin sighed, undoubtedly thinking of a few of the scrapes he'd pulled Artanis' brothers out of.  
  
Artanis asked, "Has Celebrimbor been to see you? About working?"  
  
Finarfin shook his head, "No, why should he?" Recognizing the distress in her eyes he bent forward, "Artanis, I know you'd like to see him out of that house, but they're his family. If I were to foster him, his grandfather would never forgive him. I've heard Fëanor praise Curufin's and Celebrimbor's skills to the sky even as he disparages the talents of others."  
  
"Like you," Artanis' eyes narrowed, "Or Caranthir."  
  
Finarfin smiled and shook his head again. "It doesn't matter what he says about my smithing, as long as he buys my hammers, tongs, anvils, what-have- you. I'm richer than he by far, because I don't hoard what I make. I've never understood what makes someone want to collect jewels more than, say, nails..."  
  
Artanis quickly bored of the familiar tirade. "So you haven't seen him at all?"  
  
"Celeborn? No, all my news on that front is through your mother. Celebrimbor, however, is in town, briefly, running some errands for his family. I think he'd be enormously pleased if you'd visit with him."  
  
***  
  
Celebrimbor did seem pleased to see her. She'd gone to find him at Finwë's house, otherwise unoccupied since the latter had gone to join Fëanor in exile. "You're dressed for riding," he observed. "Please tell me you're not going hunting, and I'll come with you."  
  
"I'm not, not really. Just going to rescue a wayward kinsman, except he's not, since he's been disowned."  
  
"Right, the Telerin prince... What did he do? We couldn't find that out. You wouldn't believe how little news we get at Formenos. My uncles have charged me to bring back all of the gossip I can find in Tirion."  
  
"Nothing, for all I can tell. You can ask him yourself, if you're coming with."  
  
"We're not riding are we? Let's take my carriage instead. It's much more comfortable and has room for a picnic. Where are we going, anyway? Wasn't he exiled?"  
  
"No, of course not, you know that would be scandalous and my grandfather Olwë hates scandal. Celeborn has been made a baron or something and is lord of some valley near Ringlin. Your family used to go there, so you can be my native guide."  
  
"Oh, I know the one! They've made him lord of that?! No one lives there! He has been exiled." Celebrimbor shouted to the servants to ready the carriage and their picnic.  
  
"I don't think Olwë knows about Ringlin being abandoned."  
  
"Can't tell you what a relief it is to me; it's cold up there. Oh, I'd better get us extra cloaks." Celebrimbor dashed up the stairs, two at a time. Artanis leaned back against the wall and listened to the servants dashing to and fro, shouting orders at each other.  
  
Soon enough, they were driving up into the mountains in Celebrimbor's little open carriage. "Wonderful, isn't it?" he asked her. "The uncles made it for me. Got tired of me grumbling about saddle-sores, I suppose." Artanis merely smiled.  
  
"This is for you," he added, fishing a small box out of his pocket and handing it to her. Artanis opened the box. Starlight glittered within it. She pulled out a bracelet that seemed to be set with little stars, jewels, she realized, that shone with their own clear light.  
  
"This is amazing," she gasped, when she had recovered enough to speak again.  
  
Celebrimbor shook his head sadly, "Grandfather figured out how to make those when he was just a pup. But I figure I've got to master them before I can move on. Don't worry, I'll be able to make you something better before too long."  
  
Artanis thanked him as she put it on. Out here, far from the light of the Trees, the little star-jewels shone brilliantly. "No hope of you coming to Formenos, is there?" Celebrimbor asked.  
  
"None," Artanis told him firmly. "Your grandfather and I do not get on, and you'd probably get into trouble for inviting me."  
  
Celebrimbor changed the subject. "This Celeborn, he ran in the race with you. Won by trickery, Grandfather said."  
  
"He's wrong," Artanis snapped. "Celeborn saw a shortcut that I didn't. That's how he won. But I understand he was held up at the starting point, so I'm not sure that he wouldn't have anyway. I'd like to run against him for real against him someday." Celebrimbor looked away from her and fell silent.  
  
***  
  
Ringlin was only half a day's ride from Tirion, but high into the mountains and, as Celebrimbor had said, cold. The light of the Trees was hazily visible over the looming peaks. Ringlin itself was a cold, deep lake, glittering with reflected starlight. Celebrimbor and Artanis passed a couple of shuttered houses.  
  
"I'll bet he lives there," Celebrimbor pointed to a lone tower near the eastern shore of the lake, silhouetted against a gap in the mountains there. There was a light visible near the top. "It's been abandoned forever. Used to climb up for the view though."  
  
Someone in the tower whistled shrilly as they approached. The two wolfhounds came bounding out the door heading for the carriage, barking at the top of their lungs. The horses did not like this at all. Celeborn followed hard behind, shouting. The hounds stopped barking and turned back just as Celebrimbor managed to force the nervous horses to a stop.  
  
"Down! Sit!" Celeborn roared at the hounds. They did so, their tongues hanging out and their tails still wagging. He approached the carriage, but Artanis jumped out before he could offer her his arm. "Sorry about them," he looked back at the dogs. "They actually used to be much worse." He cleared his throat and looked back at Artanis. "Er, would you like to come in? I've actually gotten a good roof on it and cleaned the place up a bit."  
  
"We brought a picnic." Celebrimbor lifted the basket. Artanis took it from him as he climbed from the carriage.  
  
"Well, good," said Celeborn, "Although my mother's sent me enough food for an army, and I've been roasting a deer that someone's got to eat, and I rather it wasn't the dogs." The wolfhounds, still sitting, were viewing the picnic basket with great interest. Celeborn helped Celebrimbor unhitch the horses, and set them to graze with his own steed, a big bay mare who ignored the newcomers to her pasture altogether.  
  
"Are you here to do some hunting?" Celeborn asked, as he started cutting off a piece of the deer hanging high over the fire.  
  
"Hah, no, I'm avoiding hunting" Celebrimbor told him.  
  
"Actually," Artanis said, "We came for you." Celeborn looked back at her, dark eyes widening. "My father wants you to come to Tirion with us. He thinks you'll be bored here all by yourself."  
  
"Um, that's very kind of him, but I really have plenty to do here." He looked a little nervous. "But I would very much like to come down there later on, once I've got things sorted out here a bit."  
  
"Don't worry," Celebrimbor assured him kindly, "Everyone's being very dull right now. They're all hunting; not here mind you, it's too cold. Eventually they'll get tired of it and they'll start having parties and dances and that sort of thing. You'll want to come down for that."  
  
Celeborn nodded, looking doubtful.  
  
Artanis sat up suddenly, "Oh, sorry, Celeborn, this is my kinsman, Celebrimbor, son of Curufin. Do you often feed venison to perfect strangers?"  
  
Celebrimbor laughed and Celeborn blushed. "Ah, well, he came in good company, and he was sure to deserve the venison more than the dogs, whoever he is."  
  
This just made Celebrimbor laugh harder. Celeborn seemed a little less tense after the introduction, and they ate as much of the deer and the picnic as they could.  
  
"If you want," Celeborn told them , "You're welcome to stay until morning. The lady Artanis can have my bed, and I've got loads of extra blankets and so forth, so Celebrimbor and I can sleep down here."  
  
"It's not that long a drive," Celebrimbor assured him, getting to his feet. Artanis thought Celeborn looked a little sad at this.  
  
"So, we still have little time before we need to head back," she assured him. He did not smile at this, but seemed a little more cheerful. "I've never been up here," she added. "Perhaps you could show us around."  
  
Celeborn nodded. "I've got something you might want to see," he told Celebrimbor. They walked out along the eastern margin of Ringlin. There was a steep drop on the side away from the lake, and, as Celebrimbor had implied earlier, the view was breathtaking.  
  
"It's hard to see from up above," Celeborn explained. "Here." He stopped near a stand of tall pine trees. At the edge was some sort of platform on a winch-and-pulley system, suspended on huge logs driven into the earth at an angle over the precipice. One end of the rope was tied to a frame from which hung a platform, and the other was tied to one of the pines. Celeborn began to untie the end from the pine tree.  
  
"Wait," croaked Celebrimbor. "You want us to go down the cliff on that?"  
  
"It's a good deal quicker than the switchbacks." Celeborn looked back at him.  
  
Artanis grinned. "It should be fine, but it may take all three of us working on the rope. I hope that platform is lighter than it looks!"  
  
"It is, and the dogs are too scared to come down this way." The dogs had indeed backed away from the contraption and were barking at it.  
  
"Sensible creatures," growled Celebrimbor. However, he quickly forgot his mortal peril as soon as they lowered the platform a few feet and he could see not a cliff face, but stonework. "It's a dam!" He cried out.  
  
"Feanorian work, perhaps? I thought that the eastern margin of Ringlin was too narrow when I first saw it on a map."  
  
As the other two had stopped feeding the rope out to descend, Artanis looked down onto the valley floor below. "So this used to be a river?"  
  
"Hundreds of years ago, going by the age of the trees in that valley." In fact, several of those trees lay felled at the base of the dam below them, with their branches cleared away.  
  
"You've been logging?" Artanis glanced back at her host in perplexity.  
  
He looked back at her, nervous again, "Olwë charged me with putting the road to rights when he made me overlord of the valley. It's been unused for a while, and I've got a lot of bridging and so forth to do."  
  
"So this dam is why there's a road here at all! It runs along the valley floor, doesn't it?" Celebrimbor asked.  
  
Celeborn nodded. The three of them pulled the platform back to the edge of the cliff (which they now knew to be the top of the dam) and they piled out and resecured the rope to the tree. The dogs had been waiting to welcome them back.  
  
"I shall have to ask my grandfather about the dam!" Celebrimbor said, excitedly. "Or perhaps his father. Did they wish to create the road or the lake?"  
  
Artanis and Celebrimbor made their farewells, hitched the horses back to the carriage, and started back down the road. "I wonder who's helping him with the logging?" Celebrimbor wondered.  
  
"He didn't want us to know," Artanis muttered, "Or there was something else about those logs that he was hiding."  
  
"What! He was hiding something? I knew it!" Celebrimbor called the horses to a stop and turned back to her.  
  
"It wasn't that important." Artanis explained. "He was more interested in talking to us. He even wanted us to stay."  
  
"Must have known that we couldn't though, or we'd have uncovered what he's up to!"  
  
Artanis sighed and shook her head. "It's just that... those logs weren't for what he said they were. He felt bad about lying to us even though he wasn't, really. It's probably something really trivial. Maybe he's selling timber or something else the terms of his fief from Olwë don't allow. It's none of our business."  
  
"That whistle, when we arrived, may have been some kind of signal. It couldn't have been for the dogs. They were in the tower with him." Celebrimbor turned the horses around.  
  
Artanis groaned and slumped in her seat. "We just had lunch with him! How evil can he be? He wanted us to visit him; he was happy to see us!"  
  
Celebrimbor urged the horses back uphill. "Look, why did his father disown him? That's pretty serious stuff! How well do you know Celeborn anyway?"  
  
Artanis shook her head. "Look, he... Galadhon's own problems probably had something to do with that. He was a great explorer before he fouled up and got Olwë and the Valar mad at him, and he can't take it out on them... Are you even listening?" They had crested the shore of Ringlin again and the tower was visible in the distance. 


	4. Chapter 4

Celebrimbor halted the horses well away from the tower. "Stay!" he told them firmly.  
  
Artanis jumped out of the carriage without letting him help her down. "Why are you doing this?!" she demanded.  
  
"Quietly!" he hissed, darting a glance at the tower.  
  
She glared at him. "It's because he likes me... As if that were any of your business."  
  
He glared back, "That has nothing to do with it! Not for me, anyway. Just because he likes you... you're going to let him go sneaking around! He's up to something; he lied to us!"  
  
"So what?" she demanded. "Who cares? His damned secret, whatever it is, has nothing to do with us!"  
  
Celebrimbor gave her a pleading gaze. "Don't you want to find out though? I mean, what could it be? Do you suppose it has something to do with the Valar? Or with Melkor? He's been talking to everyone, you know. And he loves to stir up trouble; even your father says so. And wouldn't Celeborn be a perfect subject for his little games, unjustly disowned and all of that?"  
  
A tendril of fear crept into Artanis' heart. "But Melkor likes to stay in town, with lots of people around." But she too remembered what Finarfin had noticed about the renegade Vala. Certainly he no longer killed or kidnapped elves or bred monsters. He seemed to have much more fun just saying a few words here and there and watching them turn on each other. Gossip is powerful stuff, her father had remarked, and power can be a heady thing. Why would Melkor want to go back to his cold, boring empire in Middle Earth?  
  
"He wouldn't come out here," she insisted, more for her own benefit than for Celebrimbor's. But her nagging doubts reminded her that here was not far at all from Tirion, only half a day's travel for an elf, far less for a Vala.  
  
They walked quietly to the tower, to be greeted only by silence. Cautiously, they circled around to the other side and looked down into the valley. Celeborn's long silver hair made him easy to pick out in the starlit valley. But Artanis did not recognize the elves working with him. Their slight build and lilting voices identified them as Teleri.  
  
"I guess Olwë must have given him some henchmen after all." Celebrimbor sounded disappointed.  
  
"No," said Artanis softly. "Celeborn would have told us. Instead he tried to make us think he was left here alone. And my mother was pretty sure he was alone. She would know about these things. Whoever they are, they're not supposed to be here."  
  
Baffled, Celebrimbor began to sidle back around the tower, but when Artanis cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted: "Hello down there!" he slumped against the wall in defeat.  
  
Celeborn looked up sharply, and two of the elves with him ducked into the woods, but the others stood their ground. Celeborn gestured at Artanis to wait and headed towards the rope and platform. The dogs returned with him, thoroughly delighted to see their visitors once more.  
  
"So who are they?" Celebrimbor gestured to the Teleri, who had gone back to work below.  
  
"Exiles from Alqualondë," Celeborn replied calmly. "I've given them refuge here."  
  
"Would these be the sailors who mutinied against your father?" Artanis asked casually.  
  
Celeborn nodded. "They tired of the hospitality of Valimar. They're hard workers."  
  
Celebrimbor stared, shocked. "They mutinied? Why would you trust them? Aren't you going to get into trouble?"  
  
Celeborn shrugged, "Depends on who hears about them being here. I was sort of hoping no-one would."  
  
"But what do you need outlaws for?" Celebrimbor looked baffled, but Artanis had a terrible suspicion of the answer.  
  
"To build a ship," she said, "To go to Middle Earth, right?"  
  
Celeborn's dark eyes registered nothing but he looked back down at the valley and answered her. "Yes, they're able mariners, and as I said, hard workers. Their only mistake on that last voyage was to mutiny too late."  
  
"Too late!" Celebrimbor sputtered, glaring at both of them.  
  
"They had almost run out of water, and the winds were dying down. They demanded to turn around before they were completely becalmed."  
  
Artanis protested "But they were overcome by loyal crewman, and your father discovered the Skerries, where there was fresh water to be had, and so everyone got back alright."  
  
"Not exactly," Celeborn turned back to them. "The mutiny was overcome, but they were becalmed by then. My father decided to cast the mutineers overboard, to save water, and he was within his rights by the laws of the sea. But he had been missing from port for too long and King Olwë petitioned Ossë to search for him. Ossë found the ship just in time, and carried them to the Skerries. My father wanted to carry on, felt that he had to be halfway to Middle Earth, but Ossë demanded that he return to Alqualondë and provided winds to do so. So the mutineers were exiled, and without support from the King, my father has been unable to find crew for his ship since. She's been hauled up in dry-dock for forty years."  
  
"Why didn't he let you have that ship?" Celebrimbor asked earnestly. "Does this have anything to do with why disowned you?"  
  
Celeborn let out a harsh laugh, the first laughter Artanis had ever heard from him. "The simple answer to your question is almost certainly 'yes'. If you want a longer answer, you'd have to get it from him. I never will."  
  
"Why do you want to go to Middle Earth?" Celebrimbor went on.  
  
"Why not? Why would I want to stay here? Some of us are still there, you know. Elwë, the original king of the Teleri, and most of our kin. Melkor's been gone for a long time, so I suspect they're doing pretty well. If I can set up trade between here and there, I'll need no-one's approval to go on with my life."  
  
"I thought Elwë was dead!" Celebrimbor commented. Artanis wandered away from them, looking up at the dam and wondering how far the valley below it extended before it reached the Sea.  
  
***  
  
The two of them ended up staying the night, Celeborn giving up his bed for Artanis. Much to her relief, Celebrimbor was excited enough about the project to be sworn to silence in exchange for being let in on the plans.  
  
"I'll need to borrow more horses to drag these logs down to what's left of the river," Celeborn explained the next morning, as they walked along the valley. "But the trees up here are tall enough to give me the masts and long boards I'll need, while the ones by the river are only fit for shorter pieces."  
  
Celebrimbor fretted over the difficulties of forging blades for the sawmill without being noticed. "We could borrow some," Artanis proposed. "Everyone is always sending them back to my father for sharpening. Half the time, he'd rather give them new ones from the stores than rush around getting sharpened right away."  
  
She looked up at the dam above them, "If we could get part of that down, we'd have a falls and rapids right near the best lumber. You could power a pretty good mill with that."  
  
Celeborn shook his head. "I have no idea how to even put a dent in that kind of stonework. On the other hand, I'm terrified that if I do manage to take a little off the top that the whole thing will come down all at once when I least expect it. Then I'll have a great deal more of a rapids than I want."  
  
"It will have to be the whole thing or none of it," Celebrimbor confirmed.  
  
"That's the end of it, then," Celeborn remarked. "I can think of no way to bring the whole dam down at once. I don't know how it was even built to begin with!"  
  
"With the help of the Valar," Artanis speculated, "Especially if it was King Finwë who built it."  
  
"The Valar... I may have a solution." Celebrimbor smiled up at the dam and Artanis knew that there was no way to make him tell them what he had planned. But that dam's days were numbered, that was for certain.  
  
***  
  
Finarfin calmly accepted Artanis' explanation that Celeborn was working on several projects at Ringlin and would be unable to join them until the end of the year. He also seemed unsurprised when she announced her intention of visiting him again later that week. "You'll need an escort," he remarked.  
  
"Since when?!" she yelped.  
  
"Since you're old enough not to be visiting a young fellow with no one else around." Finarfin didn't even look up from his toast.  
  
"You let me go out with Celebrimbor..."  
  
"He doesn't worry me, at least, not with respect to you. See if he'll go visit Celeborn with you."  
  
Fuming, Artanis sent Celebrimbor a note. A day later, he arrived at Finarfin's house, full of complaints. "You wouldn't believe how annoying they are. Grandfather's been shut up in his forge for a week, Father's too busy to talk to me, and the rest of them have been unbelievably tiresome. Hunting, of course, except Caranthir, who's locked himself in his room."  
  
"You can bring these to Celeborn," Finarfin indicated a couple of huge mill blades being laden onto a cart, and tossed a small bag in beside them. It clinked when it landed. "I won't take any money for them; they're used, and he's welcome to them. Guess he's putting in some bridges, not that anyone will be using them, but I suppose it's good practice."  
  
Celebrimbor grumbled further about driving up to Ringlin on the cart instead of in his carriage, so Artanis had riding horses saddled and told him that they would lead the cart horses.  
  
Celeborn was not at the tower when they arrived, but a nervous Teleri woman was there, sweeping the floors. "His lordship's at the river, my lady. They're building a mill."  
  
"Can I go, Mum? I'll show them where it is," a raggedly dressed girl of no more than thirty-five demanded from behind her mother.  
  
"Let's go then." Celebrimbor sighed. The girl ran ahead of them and jumped into the cart. Artanis wondered whether to be amused or annoyed by her. It took longer to bring the cart down the switchbacks into the valley than it did to reach the remains of the river, fed by a tributary from another valley. They found the sawmill without help, as the girl forgot about her self-assigned mission and chattered about herself and her family the whole way there. She had been born and raised in exile, Artanis realized, pitying her, and she had no idea of who Artanis and Celebrimbor were or who she herself was in relation to them.  
  
The sawmill itself was an unfinished log building, with a water wheel already in place. Celeborn came outside as they drew near, accompanied by one of the Teleri, who pulled the chattering girl roughly from the cart and began to scold her. Celeborn looked over the saws with satisfaction, but stared when Artanis handed his money back to him. "They're used, like I said," she told him and he nodded blankly.  
  
Artanis rode back to Celeborn's tower alone for the night. She woke early the next morning and, on a whim, she braided her hair on top of her head and went on a long run for the first time since the race. She sprinted back and forth along the switchbacks but took the miles from the dam to the sawmill more slowly. Celeborn was there, splitting shingles from the end of a rough-cut log with an axe. He was wearing only a light kilt. Artanis managed not to stare as she ran up beside him.  
  
Two of the Teleri mariners, dragging a short log into the mill looked at her in alarm. "Are ye alright, milady?" one of them asked her.  
  
She nodded, forcing her breath to return to normal, "Just training, for a race."  
  
The Teleri nodded, looking unconvinced. Celeborn looked up from his work. If he was amused, he certainly didn't show it.  
  
"It's true, you know," the mariner's partner muttered to him in the dialect of the Teleri, "She runs against the men and those Vanyar girls. Her mother, our princess, named her Nerwen, for she's a match for 'em."  
  
Artanis felt her cheeks grow hot. Celeborn looked back at the log, but did not resume chopping. "She did that to me when I was born," Artanis growled, more frustrated with herself than with Celeborn. "I know babies are kind of androgynous, but that's ridiculous." Especially when she was taller than most of the boys she knew, even Celebrimbor, and would still be taller than them once they were grown.  
  
"You don't care much for your father-name either," Celeborn observed sympathetically, handing her a water-skin. "It does seem a little... bland for you," Artanis looked away from the quiet admiration in his eyes. How could he look at her like that when she was sweaty, windblown, and exhausted?  
  
He stood beside her, fidgeting for a moment, then looking back at her. "Galadriel," he said suddenly, then just as abruptly turned away, hacking at the log more enthusiastically than before. 'Maiden crowned in radiance'... he meant her.  
  
She felt her cheeks grow hot again. "That's much too fine a name for me." Celeborn did not look up. 


	5. Chapter 5

"Here's a letter from Galathil" Finarfin remarked some weeks later over breakfast. Artanis looked up with a start. Since her last return from Ringlin, almost five weeks before, Finarfin managed to find enough errands and projects to keep her from slipping off to see Celeborn. Celeborn himself had sent her back with a list and money to acquire materials, particularly bolts of heavy cloth for sails, which Artanis had asked a servant to buy and have delivered to Ringlin. Looking over at her, Finarfin added, "And he includes a note he'd like sent on to his brother."  
  
"I'll bring it!" she managed to sound offhand, but Finarfin laughed.  
  
"And you were being so good about not pestering me to let you visit Celeborn!" he teased. Artanis turned red and glared at him. She snatched the letter and stalked off. "Remember," shouted Finarfin after her, "You're not going up there without one of your brothers or your cousins."  
  
Fortunately, Celebrimbor was in Tirion that day. Artanis paced about the stables impatiently while his horses were being hitched to the carriage. Celebrimbor carried a box out of the house and tucked it under one of the seats.  
  
"I have what we need in here," he grinned and looked at the box. Artanis looked back at him blankly. "To take down the dam, silly!"  
  
"Oh," she replied. In all honesty, she had forgotten the dam.  
  
"You'll see what it is when we get there," Celebrimbor promised her, although she hadn't asked.  
  
This time, one of the Teleri mariners was watching from the tower, and Celeborn had come up from the valley to greet them as they arrived. Artanis handed him his letter as he helped her from the carriage.  
  
"Are you ready?" Celebrimbor demanded, taking his box from the carriage. The dogs sniffed it impatiently. Celeborn looked up from the letter. "The dam!" Celebrimbor reminded him impatiently.  
  
"Do you really think you can take it down? I've got the longest logs and boards bundled and ready to go."  
  
"Of course I can take it down. It would be best if I just destroy part of it and let the rest go on its own over the next few days, to reduce the flood..." Carrying his box, Celebrimbor headed for the platform.  
  
Celeborn persuaded him to put down the box and wait while the sawmill was dismantled enough to lift the saws onto the roof and tie them down. Likewise, the bundles of logs to be sent downstream were fastened to some of the remaining trees. "These were a little too thick to fell," Celeborn explained to Artanis as he lashed the last bundle of logs to a thickset maple, "So I hope that they will hold long enough to withstand the flood." He looked back on the tree sadly. "But its roots will be underwater afterwards."  
  
Celebrimbor had Artanis and Celeborn lower the platform part of the way down then hold it in place while he opened his box and pulled out a chisel and hammer and started chipping at the dam.  
  
"Is that all?" Celeborn looked baffled.  
  
"Of course not! I just needed a little space between these blocks." Celebrimbor had skillfully knocked off chinks of stone from the corners of the blocks and pulled them out. He took a small chunk of something brownish out of the box and wedged it into the hole he had made. He tied a string coming out from the chunk to the edge of the platform. He had them continue lowering the platform and repeated the task four more times.  
  
"Hope you're not too attached to this contraption; it's going down with this part of the dam," he warned Celeborn as they returned to the top. He untied the strings, separating them out carefully as Celeborn and several of the mariners salvaged the platform, rope, and pulley.  
  
"Go over by the tower and stay there." Celebrimbor ordered them and they retreated. He carefully lit the strings on fire, one at a time, counting between each lighting. The strings burned down over the edge of the dam. After he lit the last string, Celebrimbor leapt to his feet and sprinted towards the tower. There was a sound like a thunderclap, and the ground shook. The top of the dam where the platform had been crumbled and the trees fell over the edge. There was another thunderclap, and another and another. By the last one, most of the dam was gone and most of the lake with it. Celebrimbor sprinted just ahead of the edge of the collapse.  
  
Celebrimbor reached the tower and collapsed at their feet. "I should have told you to do it," he gasped. "You're the runners." Artanis looked down into the valley below. It was filling with water like a bathtub.  
  
"What was that?" she demanded, turning back to Celebrimbor.  
  
"Not sure." Celebrimbor gasped. "Father saw a Maia use it to rescue some of our men who were trapped in a mine. He figured out how to make it,and I just snuck a little of his stash away. I know how it works. He's used it a bunch of times to clear rockslides and so forth. As you can see, there's definitely an art to it."  
  
"I can see that you almost got yourself killed! You almost went down with the dam!" Artanis snarled at him.  
  
"How did you know it wouldn't take down the whole dam and the tower with it?" Celeborn asked more calmly.  
  
Celebrimbor grinned back at them. "Just an educated guess." Artanis groaned and sat on the ground. Celeborn shook his head, then turned back to his men. They headed down the switchback. The floodwaters had already dropped quite a bit. For some reason, Artanis felt disappointed.  
  
Celebrimbor stayed back in order to get a better look at the construction of the dam from what had been the inside of the lake, so Artanis went into the valley to watch Celeborn and the mariners assemble and pack rafts.  
  
"We'll head down to the sea and build the shipyard there. We collected plenty of timber. See, there's the sailcloth and the nails you got me..." Celeborn gestured towards the rafts.  
  
"How long will it take?"  
  
"To build the ship? Only a few months. Some of the men have more experience than I do."  
  
"I'm not going to be able to go see you out there, by the sea. Are you going to come up to Tirion?" Artanis looked back at him.  
  
Celeborn blushed and looked down. "Well... I suppose I'll need more tools or we'll run out of resin... or something." He managed to look back up at her, "I'll come to see you." Artanis smiled and he looked away again.  
  
***  
  
Celeborn was never able to fulfill that promise. A couple of days later, Artanis' mother, Eärwen, returned from a visit to Alqalondë. "He's done it now," she declared theatrically, storming in as the family sat at dinner.  
  
"Who, mother?" Finrod asked, more to be polite than because he actually wanted to know.  
  
"Your kinsman, he used to be your kinsman anyway, until father let that idiot Galadhon disown him... Well, he's gone and knocked down a dam, a dam that Fëanor built, and of course Fëanor's gone howling to my father... I'd never have expected it, such a sensible lad Celeborn was."  
  
Artanis realized that her father was looking at her, his expression betraying nothing. She kept her eyes focused on her plate and ate voraciously.  
  
Of course, she couldn't depend on any degree of subtlety from the twins. "Isn't he your friend, Artanis?"  
  
"That's right, you went up to the mountains to bring him stuff. You and Celebrimbor."  
  
Artanis nodded and kept eating. They couldn't very well expect her to say anything if her mouth was full, now could they? Eärwen glanced over at her, then proceeded to tell them all of the other, far less interesting news from her side of the family. The boys did not dare interrupt her so that they could interrogate their sister, who escaped upstairs at the first opportunity.  
  
But she couldn't stay in her room for long. As soon as her brothers' voices indicated that they had moved away from the stairs, she dashed to Finarfin's study. Much to her relief, he was alone there.  
  
He sighed and put his book down. "I suppose you know something of this matter?" She didn't need to ask which matter he was referring to.  
  
"What's going to happen to him?" she demanded.  
  
"I had a chance to speak to your mother as she came in. By now, Celeborn has been summoned back to Alqalondë. Olwë knows that he has been sheltering outlaws, albeit on land from which they're not specifically banned. The destruction of the dam has permanently flooded the road that Celeborn was ordered to maintain, giving Olwë an excuse to rescind the fief."  
  
Artanis sagged into a chair. "That's not fair! He can travel to the sea much faster on a raft now than he could have on the road with a wagon! And no one was using it anyway!"  
  
Finarfin looked back at her sadly. "I know that and you know that. Olwë probably wouldn't even have cared about the outlaws until Fëanor sent one of his sons to complain, as loudly and shrilly as possible, about the dam. It was Celegorm, of course. Fëanor sent him to investigate the destruction of the dam and he tracked Celeborn and the twenty-three families with him in the direction of the sea. Once Fëanor told Olwë the number of men, Olwë figured out who they were. Fëanor added a few speculations that were just enough to frighten Olwë about Celeborn's ambitions, and the whole thing is spiraling outward from there."  
  
"Ambitions?" Artanis sat up, shocked.  
  
"Olwë was concerned about why Celeborn sheltered the outlaws and wanted a road to the sea. Thanks to Fëanor, there's now talk that Celeborn is trying to build another port settlement to rival Alqalondë." Finarfin leaned back and looked back at her.  
  
"He's crazy," said Artanis weakly.  
  
"Just a little," Finarfin agreed, "I think that's how one ends up as a king. But there is just enough weirdness in the facts to make it hard to come up with a theory that's a bit more reasonable. So do you know what he was doing?" "Nothing that exciting," Artanis muttered. Finarfin folded his arms and continued to look at her. "Look," she protested, "it's not my secret to tell, or believe me I would. It's nothing that important."  
  
"But it required destroying a dam? How did he, or you, manage that anyway?" Finarfin raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Well, it didn't... not really... That just sort of ended up happening." Artanis felt her face grow warm.  
  
Finarfin picked up his book. "Well, you wiped out an abandoned dam, damaged Fëanor's uninhabited estate, and flooded a disused road. None of this really warrants any concern on my part as long as none of you got hurt."  
  
Artanis voice rose, "But what's going to happen to him?"  
  
Finarfin looked grim. "It's not yet decided. Olwë told your mother that he was going to send Celeborn and the outlaws with him to the Skerries for a few years to keep them out of trouble. That's why she returned and she'll be on her way back this week. She told Olwë that if he does any such thing, I'll bring it up with Ingwë and we'll put a stop to it. But I can't see him letting Celeborn leave Alqalondë again, which is almost as bad. Ah well, in ten years he'll be of age and Olwë will probably let him go.  
  
"I want to go with Mother!" Artanis blurted.  
  
"Very well, but stay out of trouble this time." Finarfin turned back to his book.  
  
***  
  
"You'll probably want to go visit Celeborn," Eärwen remarked as her servants carried their luggage up the steps of the townhouse in Alqalondë.  
  
"Yes, mum, thanks!" Artanis dashed back into the street, then looked back.  
  
"He's staying at the Palace, whether he wishes to or not," Eärwen called out the door.  
  
Artanis nodded, then headed up the hill to Olwë's palace. Much to her relief, Olwë himself was out, and the servants led her to Celeborn. He was sitting in the library, far better dressed than she had ever seen him before, paging listlessly through a book.  
  
"Hello," she said, awkwardly, as she walked towards him. He stood up, his face brightening, but did not smile. He nodded at her.  
  
"Are you alright?" she asked.  
  
He nodded again, and sat down. "I got to see my mother and my brother. They're looking after the dogs."  
  
"Where are your men?" she asked.  
  
"I ordered 'em to Valimar, until the King decides what he wants to do. If it's all that awful, they needn't come back."  
  
"What is he going to do?"  
  
"I don't know; that's the worst of it. He was going to ship me off to the Skerries, but he thinks your father will do something to stop him. He's really irked with me." The last was said without pride.  
  
Artanis sat down next to him.  
  
Celeborn added, "But he doesn't know about the ship. He doesn't want to know about anything having to do with me. And I don't much want to tell him. I'm afraid if he finds out about the timber, he'll take it from me. And I don't know where I'll ever get more. Not on the Skerries, that's for sure."  
  
In a small voice, Artanis asked, "So what do you want to do?"  
  
"I... have an idea. Look, do you know anyone who could get that timber to the Skerries?"  
  
"What?" Artanis managed weakly.  
  
Celeborn forged on, "I have everything I need to build that ship but time, and a place where Olwë won't stop me. Listen, if I agree to go be "governor" of the Skerries for a few months as some sort of penance or whatever, he'll let me take my possessions, including my tools and my men with me, because he'll be happy for me to have servants to keep up appearances in the bloody Skerries of all places. A few of the captains around here are friends of mine; they'll stop by on occasion, make sure I'm provisioned and so forth. They can bring the nails, sailcloth, resin, and so forth. But I can't trust them with the lumber. One of their crewmen is bound to report it back to Olwë and he'll want to know where I got it. Once I've got the ship built, I'll sail back, and then I'll be able to do whatever I want."  
  
"He won't take the ship?" Artanis asked.  
  
Celeborn shook his head. "He wouldn't dare. Building things... it's no different than with the Noldor. Once I've built it, it's mine, and no one can take it from me."  
  
Artanis said miserably, "But how do I get the lumber to you? The Skerries are halfway to Middle Earth, aren't they?"  
  
"You'll think of something," Celeborn assured her. "If not, your crazy cousin will. I just hope the wood will survive it. And if he doesn't, your father can make Olwë bring me back after a year. Maybe he'll just let me go then. But even a barren rock in the middle of the ocean has to be better than this place."  
  
He reached over and took her hand. Artanis leaned over towards him, but he pulled back and let go. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, looking away from her. "But I'm not going to be able to see you... for a while, no matter what. And I'm in all kinds of trouble anyway. It just doesn't matter." 


	6. Chapter 6

Now that Artanis wanted to find him, Celebrimbor failed to be anywhere convenient. Celeborn, most of his men, and some of their families had been packed onto a pair of huge white swan-ships within a week of Artanis' arrival and sent into the East. Much to her relief, her mother decided to return to Tirion the following day.  
  
Artanis felt weary enough to wait until after dinner to seek Celebrimbor. But the servants at Finw's house said that he was not there, that they did not know when he would return, or where he was at the moment. Dejected, she returned home.  
  
There was a seagull in her room, sitting on her dresser and looking at itself suspiciously in her mirror. Artanis stared at it for a moment in exhausted stupefaction.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't come contact you in Aqualondë," said the seagull, turning to face her, "but you had already left when I went to find you."  
  
"Hello, Olórin," Artanis said weakly, sitting down on her bed. He must be here, she realized, to summon her back to her studies. "I'm sorry, I can't come back just yet; I have to take care something..."  
  
Olórin twisted his head sideways to look at her. "Perhaps the same project I have come to tell you about? I have a friend who's very interested in recent doings in Alqualondë. And that seems to be the only place in Valinor where the right gossip is hard to come by nowadays. So he asked me to ask you about Celeborn, who was the son of Galadhon and then the lord of Ringlin, but is neither of these things any longer."  
  
"I-I think... my father's the one for the good gossip, if you can get him to tell you anything. He seems to figure out what's happening without going anywhere near the problem, which is more than I can manage when I'm right in the middle of one. Or ask Celeborn. You're probably just about the only person that can talk to him right now, since King Olwë exiled him to the Skerries."  
  
"I will, in due time," Olórin assured her, his beady eyes twinkling. "But there is someone who would like to talk to you. Meet him at the mouth of the Ringnen, which is no longer such a little river, a week from now."  
  
The Ringnen... that had been the river that had run through Celeborn's land, beside the road, that had been a modest river until Fëanor's dam was destroyed. The river down which Celeborn had floated his precious timber, that he wanted Artanis to somehow carry across the sea to the Skerries, where he would make a ship from it. Olórin and his friends knew about it, she realized, horrified.  
  
Artanis choked back the retort that came to her lips, and forced something milder out instead: "Why do you care about Celeborn?"  
  
"Why shouldn't I?" Olórin spread his wings and flew in a lazy circle around the room. "Decisions of kings and princes notwithstanding, he's a very clever and determined young fellow, and he is bound to affect the course of events. So are you, you know. I'd rather see things come out for the best. And even if I can't manage that, I would like to be able to prepare for the worst." With that, he sailed out of the window.

* * *

The next morning, rather than wait for anything more to happen, Artanis announced that she wanted to ride up to Formenos to see Celebrimbor. Finarfin looked at her skeptically, then decided, "Finrod, you had best go with her."  
  
Finrod spluttered for a moment, then sighed and said, "At least wait 'til tomorrow. Fingon and Aredhel are riding up that way to go hunting. I don't suppose that you want to go hunting..."  
  
"I just need to talk to Celebrimbor." Artanis finished her tea and fled back upstairs before Finrod could continue grilling her. Artanis paced her room and looked out at the garden. She had a week to get the lumber away from the mouth of the Ringnen before Olórin's friend came to meet her. But if they had already found it, what was she going to do? Celebrimbor would be able to think of something, wouldn't he? He'd figured out how to get rid of the dam... But on the other hand, they hadn't actually needed to be rid of it and that dam had made all the trouble in the first place...  
  
She sat down, suddenly tired, and wished herself as far from Valinor and its problems, as she could be. Why not Middle Earth? No Fëanor, no Melkor, not even prying brothers or crazy cousins. With Celeborn's twenty- three outlaws and their families, she, Celeborn, and Celebrimbor would be able to do all kinds of things. For that matter, the elves who had been left behind might be quite glad to see them. Elwë, their king, had been a kinsman of her mother's. She thought back on the crafts she had learned from the Valar and the Maiar, things that the elves in Middle Earth might not know. For once, she could be someone important, not just the youngest of the house of Finwë, and just a girl at that.  
  
She managed to take the whole morning packing things for the short trip north, but could not think of a good enough excuse to miss lunch. Besides, she was hungry. Finrod and the twins were waiting, of course. The moment their parents left the table, they were on her like hounds on a helpless rabbit. "Why do you want to go to Formenos? You aren't going to pick a fight with Uncle Fëanor, are you? Celebrimbor went with you to Ringlin, didn't he? Did he rat Celeborn out?" Artanis continued eating, stolidly, and pretended not to hear them.  
  
Finarfin wandered back into the dining room and smiled at the sight of Artanis and her frustrated brothers. "Why is your sister giving you the silent treatment?"  
  
"Father, why does Artanis want to go to Formenos?" demanded Finrod.  
  
"To talk to your cousin, Celebrimbor. She said so at breakfast." Finarfin spooned the last of the dessert out of the bottom of a dish. Artanis spared him a small glare.  
  
"You'd better not be planning to make any trouble!" Finrod told her firmly, then strode out of the room. Finarfin ruined the effect by trying not to laugh and failing. To his credit, Finrod didn't even look back.

* * *

Much to Artanis's dismay, Finrod was not ready to go until well after breakfast. "I've got to run some errands," he informed her brusquely at breakfast. Of course, he didn't want her to come with him.  
  
Fingon and his sister Aredhel arrived before Finrod returned. "Off to see Amarie, is he?" Fingon chuckled. Artanis nodded mutely, although she had no idea where Finrod was.  
  
Aredhel paced across the drawing room and sighed. She was, if anything, more athletic than Artanis, always out riding or hunting, but somehow, she managed to do all of it in a perfectly ladylike way, in a smart white gown that was invariably still spotless at the end of her ride. Artanis was too intimidated by Aredhel to despise her.  
  
Eventually, Finrod returned and they were able to leave. Fingon chattered jovially as they rode. "Damned inconvenient that the lads had to go with Fëanor, isn't it? I asked Maedhros why he just didn't stay behind at Grandfather's, and he just shrugged at me, the great dolt."  
  
Artanis bit her lip and remained quiet. The tangled lives of her Fëanorian cousins were a problem that she saw too much of and understood far too little of. Fëanor himself... bothered her. The way he could smile at people while his spirit boiled with frustration within him... it had taken her a long time to realize that the rest of her family couldn't see inside people the way that she could. It was a knack, but a far less useful one than she would have liked. What was the point of seeing what people really thought and wanted if you couldn't understand it?

* * *

It took most of an interminable day to reach Formenos, Fëanor's new mansion. Artanis was shocked at how ugly it was. There were no windows at the ground level, only a huge iron-bound door set into the side of a mountain.  
  
Fingon went up and knocked. The door boomed heavily, despite its huge size. Under different circumstances, Artanis would have found it amusing. A few minutes later, the door swung open and her cousin Maedhros, his red curls unbraided, beckoned them inside.  
  
"Celegorm and the twins are getting ready still. We've been busy all day. Dad had some things he wanted finished before we went out..." Artanis tuned him out and made sure that she memorized the doorways and turns as they went deeper into the house... fortress, actually, she realized.  
  
When Maedhros finally settled them in a sitting room (two levels down, very nearly under the front door by Artanis' estimates), she asked for Celebrimbor.  
  
"I didn't think he was going." Maedhros began.  
  
"He's not, and I just came to talk to him."  
  
Maedhros looked at Finrod, then shrugged and had a servant bring her to Celebrimbor. They went back up a level, and further into the mountain. Artanis could smell the forges even before the hot air struck her. Celebrimbor tossed his gloves and apron aside and rushed to greet her.  
  
"What have you heard?" Celebrimbor demanded as soon as Maedhros left them.  
  
"He, he's gone." Artanis felt suddenly frightened and tired. "Listen, Celebrimbor we've got a problem. The lumber..."  
  
"What do you mean, he?" Celebrimbor snapped. "And I don't see that you've got a problem, I'm the one..."  
  
A surge of anger cleared Artanis' mind. She glared at Celebrimbor, and as she did, his thoughts and his fears filled her mind. "You prat!" she snarled, "You think Celeborn told them that you blew up the dam. That's all you care about!"  
  
"Well, did he?" Celebrimbor asked. "If Grandfather hears..."  
  
"He hasn't told anyone!" Artanis barely remembered to keep her voice down. "And now he's been shipped off to the Skerries! And this is all your fault!"  
  
"It is not! You were the ones who wanted the dam gone!" Celebrimbor was becoming as angry as she was. "And I'm the one who has to deal with Grandfather!"  
  
Artanis looked away and forced her frustration back under control. "Celebrimbor, no one knows. And no one's going to tell anyone anything."  
  
"Good!" Celebrimbor recovered. "Look, it's not that bad. It's not like anyone lives at Ringlin anymore, nor along the river, as I remember. No harm done, right?"  
  
"Except for Celeborn being exiled, and our ship not getting built..."  
  
"Look," Celebrimbor interrupted, "Celeborn's got this feud with his father, right? I bet that's the real reason he got exiled. Olwë just wants to keep him out of the way for a little while. He keeps getting into trouble! He'll be allowed back eventually. The Valar won't let Olwë leave him out there."  
  
Artanis shut her eyes and listened to him prattle on. He just wanted things to go back the way they were, she realized miserably. He didn't like Celeborn, and she wasn't sure why. Jealousy, she sensed, but of what? The two of them were just so different!  
  
"Are you two coming with us?" Maedhros and Finrod came into the forge, dressed in hunting leathers. Celebrimbor protested, but Artanis nodded meekly and went with them.

* * *

Artanis returned home alone after the first night, and much to her surprise, Finrod accompanied her home.  
  
"You and Celebrimbor had a fight," he observed, as they rode back toward the light of the Trees.  
  
Artanis nodded and hoped that would satisfy him. It didn't.  
  
"You and he visited Celeborn a few times. Did that have something to do with it?" Finrod continued.  
  
Artanis hunched her shoulders. "It's none of your business!" she protested.  
  
Finrod scowled at her. "Aside from you being my little sister, whom I should worry about just a little, Celeborn got into a lot of trouble recently. No one seems to be worried about him. Was that your and Celebrimbor's doing?"  
  
Artanis said nothing, but her eyes stung with tears.  
  
"Celeborn is certainly paying the price for it, whatever it was." Finrod observed coldly.  
  
Artanis gritted her teeth. "It was... an accident. Things just went faster than we expected. And I'm going to help him..."  
  
"What things?" Finrod pulled his horse alongside hers. He was clearly not going to leave her alone.  
  
"With the dam. We didn't really need to... But... I can't talk about it. I promised I wouldn't." Artanis shut her eyes tightly to keep the tears back. "Finrod, really, there's nothing you can do."  
  
"I'd prefer to be the judge of that." Finrod said. "Dad's doing what he can for Celeborn. But it's going to take awhile, and I'm not sure that I want you and Celebrimbor getting him mixed up in your activities again. There can't be a next time."  
  
"Our activities?" Artanis asked sharply.  
  
"Yes. Like the time you two built that contraption to fling stuff across the main courtyard and splattered Grandfather with stew? Or the time that you sent a carriage down the hill to see how far it would go?"  
  
"We were kids, Finrod! I don't do that kind of stuff anymore!"  
  
"No," snapped Finrod, "You've moved up in the world. Now you blow up dams!"  
  
"That wasn't me," muttered Artanis, looking down at the road.  
  
"You were there, as you have been at the scene of other Celebrimbor-induced disasters. That boy is great at making messes and getting other people blamed for them. And Celeborn really doesn't need to be blamed for other people's problems anymore. He's not like you two. He'd work really hard at something useful if he got a chance."  
  
Artanis swung back to Finrod. "So would I, if I had a chance. But there's nothing to do here, except to study, and engage in contests, and do all kinds of practice for responsibilities we'll never get to have! The Valar take such good care of us, there's no need to work at anything!"  
  
"You sound like Fëanor."  
  
"I... I don't! He doesn't know what he wants; he's just angry,and he doesn't even know why, so that's what he says!" Artanis was angry too, as much at herself as at Finrod or Fëanor. "I'm not planning to stay here and fester, that's all!"  
  
"Where are you going to go? Away from the trees, Valinor is dark and no one lives out there. At least, no one normal."  
  
"Finrod, what would you say if you could go to Middle Earth?"  
  
"Well, I'd go in a heartbeat if I could, and so would everyone I know. They don't even have Melkor anymore." He eyed her suspiciously. "But we can't. You know it. There's the Sea to get across."  
  
Artanis weighed her words carefully. "Promise not to tell anyone or interfere if I can get past the Sea?"  
  
Finrod stared at her. "Fine, on one condition. If I think you're going to get yourself hurt, or anyone else, I'm putting a stop to your scheme. Understand?" Artanis nodded. "It's a deal." 


	7. Chapter 7

Much to Artanis' disappointment, Finrod was neither shocked nor impressed by her explanation that Celeborn was building a ship to sail to Middle Earth. "I've always wondered why the Teleri have never bothered to sail east of the Skerries, even though they've still got kin stranded back on the far shore. I've asked a few captains. It seems that things always go wrong for the boldest explorers, like Galadhon, and they end up being rescued by Ossë."  
  
"But we've got the Skerries now," Artanis protested. "And they've got water. And Celeborn isn't just thinking about wandering across the Sea for fun. He's really serious!"  
  
"Alright," Finrod sighed. "I would like to at least find out what happened to Elw's people. They're our relatives too. But I don't want you to bring anyone else into it. Our relatives here are fun people, but some of them don't have a lot of sense. Except, we should get Dad's and the Valar's permission first."  
  
"I figured I'd have to tell Dad. I don't want to get disowned too. But you don't want to tell Fingon? And all your friends?"  
  
"We call him Fingon the Valiant, not Fingon-the-Particularly-Clever. He's another genius at getting into trouble, and this little venture is dangerous enough to start with. Once we've been over there and sized things up, we can come back and bring some of the others. Speaking at avoiding trouble on the first trip, let's definitely leave your friend Celebrimbor out of the loop."  
  
"It's too late for that; he already knows. But I haven't told anyone except you. And I think Celeborn's brother, Galathil, knows, but he doesn't get out of Alqualondë very often."  
  
"Is Celebrimbor likely to tell Fëanor?" asked Finrod anxiously.  
  
"No," Artanis shook her head. "No, he's still afraid of getting caught for blowing up the dam."  
  
"Good," said Finrod firmly. "Because a free ticket to Middle Earth is exactly what Fëanor wants, and I feel badly for the Dark Elves once he gets there, because they'll be getting a new high king, whether they want one or not."  
  
"I wouldn't want him for High King!" muttered Artanis.  
  
"Good! So just keep quiet about it."

* * *

It wasn't hard to persuade Finrod to turn aside from returning to Tirion.  
  
" We need to go to the sea, by the mouth of the Ringnen. Olórin wants me to meet a friend of his, and it's not far from where Celeborn's lumber is," Artanis explained. "I hope they'll help us."  
  
"Olórin probably will. And any friend of his is going to be a Maia as well." Finrod speculated. Artanis shrugged. Olórin was inscrutable enough on his own. She had no idea what sort of friends he had.  
  
They avoided Alqualondë on the way and rode along the shore of the Sea. Artanis wondered what Celeborn was doing, and how she was going to get the lumber to him. And who Olórin's friend was. Finrod looked over at her every so often, as if he were about to say something, but remained silent.  
  
They had almost reached the river when a couple of elves stepped out of the trees and hailed her. "You've come for... on Lord Celeborn's business, highness?"  
  
They must be two of Celeborn's mariners, she realized, with their ragged clothes. There were others still in the woods, watching. They looked over at Finrod anxiously. He kept his expression stern, betraying nothing.  
  
"I need to take care of something first." Artanis informed them with a confidence that she certainly didn't feel. She rode on towards the river and Finrod followed her.  
  
The Ringnen roared out of the mountains into the sea with an enthusiasm that it probably hadn't been able to muster for centuries. A wild pony grazed near its shores, and birds twittered in the trees, but otherwise Finrod and Artanis were alone.  
  
"A nice place to wait." Finrod ran an admiring eye over the landscape as he got off his horse.  
  
Artanis looked around as she dismounted, then handed Finrod the reins and walked over to the pony.  
  
The pony looked up and said, "Well, at least you've learned to be punctual." He turned to the sea and made a strange sound, something between an owl's cry and a whistle, but much deeper. An answering call came up from under the waves, and a huge, dark shape split the surface of the water. A spray of water came up from it, and it moved in towards the shore. Artanis watched in fascination and started in surprise when she realized her brother had come up behind her.  
  
"Lord Ossë, may I present their highnesses, Prince Finrod and Princess Artanis of the Noldor," Olórin-the-pony said to the huge creature that had risen halfway above the water. At least, Artanis hoped it was half out of the water; it was enormous, a great, lumpy grey animal with beady black eyes the size of dinner plates.  
  
"Lady Artanis," the creature said in its deep warbling voice (at least Artanis knew that that was what it said; afterwards she could not be sure that it had spoken in Quenya), "I have heard very impressive reports of you. Of course, the young man could be biased..."  
  
"Oh." Artanis swallowed. "Is... is Celeborn alright?"  
  
"Sound in mind and body, but he wants to go home. And after that, he wants to explore the world. And he wants... so many things. It is easy to tell that he is young." Ossë laughed, although it did not sound like laughter.  
  
"Could you help us? Please?" Artanis asked desperately. "I've got to send him the lumber for a ship. It's already cut and everything."  
  
"This I can do quite easily. But should I? This is what I have been wondering." Ossë settled deeper in the water and the laughter was gone from his voice now.  
  
"Look, we aren't planning to do anything wrong! But if Celeborn doesn't have a ship, he'll be stuck on the Skerries or in Alqualondë for years! We just want to go to Middle Earth. We're going to help the elves who've been left behind or decided to stay behind or whatever it was they did..."  
  
Ossë whistled a note of grief. "The Forsaken have weighed heavily on my heart for many, many years. But are you sure, Princess of the Noldor, that they want your help?"  
  
"I... I can't do much here. And there's a lot I can do over there! All your family have been teaching me things that the Eldar couldn't do before we came here..."  
  
"You are not alone in your ambitions. Your brothers, your cousins, your other kin, I have heard, all weary of waiting to take their lives in their own hands, to take charge of lands and nations of their own, to accomplish great things without the help of the Valar. Don't you see how wrong these hopes could go?"  
  
Artanis thought of Fëanor and his speeches and shuddered.  
  
But Ossë sighed and turned in the water. "I know you mean well, daughter of the Noldor. But what you hope for and what I foresee are very different. In many ways, it is already decided. You will do far less wrong than most. Your heart is kinder than your mind is clever or than your ambition is keen. I put my trust in kindness. I will bring your Celeborn his timber and let come what may, for I know it is too late to stop it."  
  
He meant something other than the ship, Artanis realized, and if he knew exactly what the dark shadow he saw in her future was, he would probably tell her more. But Ossë pulled away from the shore and subsided beneath the waves.  
  
After Artanis directed the mariners to pole their rafts, laden with boards from the Ringnen into the Sea, and watched Ossë bear them away eastwards, there was nothing left to do but wait. Over the next few months, she struggled desperately to remember what Olórin had said about waiting, but could come up with nothing but that it was hard.

* * *

When she and Finrod got back home, her mother handed her a letter. "From Galathil," she told Artanis guilelessly. Artanis took it up to her room before opening it; much as she'd hoped, it was from Celeborn rather than Galathil. It didn't say much, just that things were very dull out in the Skerries and that he hoped that her projects were going very well. He means the lumber, she thought irritably. Doesn't even ask me how I am, and he doesn't even say anything about missing me. That last was a little hard to think about. What if he really did just care about the lumber? He admired her, but, she admitted miserably to herself, what he really wanted most in all the world was his freedom, and without the ship he would never have it.  
  
Finrod brought her strange and disturbing news a couple of days after their return. "Middle Earth might not be the place to go for a nice vacation. Melkor's gone, and Dad was saying to Mother that he would have gone back home, to his old fortresses there."  
  
Artanis was stunned. "Did he say why?"  
  
Finrod shrugged. "The Valar had worked out who spread the rumors that got Fëanor to attack Fingolfin, then decided that Melkor needed to come talk to them. But he stayed just one step ahead of their messenger and kept right on talking to people. And the Valar didn't bother to tell anyone that he was in trouble. Rumor has it that his last stop was Formenos, a few hours after we left."  
  
Artanis shuddered. "Who says he's really gone?"  
  
"Mother says that he was seen from Alqualondë, heading north and then east."  
  
"But, that's towards the Ice. I guess you could get to Middle Earth that way..."  
  
"If you were Valar, sure. The only elvish explorer to try that path was Galadhon. Had to turn back, obviously."  
  
Artanis turned away. "Look, the Valar will just catch Melkor again. And this time they'll keep him chained up. And if they don't, that's all the more reason to go to Middle Earth and help the elves who were left behind."  
  
"Maybe," Finrod watched her closely. "Still, let's wait for the Valar to get him back here before we set sail."  
  
Celebrimbor eventually visited, but much to Artanis' frustration, knew nothing about Melkor's visit. "I saw him arrive, and I heard him leave, but he talked to Grandfather alone, made him really angry. He didn't get what he wanted, whatever that was. Good riddance to him!" He changed the subject.  
  
Even with Melkor gone and Fëanor banished, there still seemed to be trouble among the Noldor. Artanis got home one afternoon to find her uncle Fingolfin and her cousin Fingon in the parlor holding copies of the same terrible instrument that Fëanor had threatened Fingolfin with.  
  
"No!" said Finarfin. "I'm not making any of those and that's final!"  
  
"But what if Melkor returns?" Fingolfin pleaded. "We'll need something to defend ourselves."  
  
"Those aren't going to scare Melkor! And who are we going to practice on? Each other? There's been enough of that already. I can't believe you're crazy enough to..." He broke off as he saw Artanis staring at them from the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. She turned and ran up to her room. She could hear her father start shouting at Fingolfin behind her.

* * *

Olórin seemed to have vanished as completely as Melkor and none of the Valar or Maiar had time for students in those days. It was rather unfortunate, as the young Noldor, left idle and alone, returned to town to drink and argue with each other. Artanis stayed to the house as much as possible. The Vanyar had mostly emigrated to Valimar, and Artanis couldn't blame them. Celebrimbor did not return to visit, which was a relief; that relationship had grown uncomfortable.  
  
She visited Alqualondë once with her mother, and saw with relief that the trouble did not seem to have spread there. The Teleri continued to sail their ships and wander the beaches as if nothing were wrong. Her spirits lifted further when she saw Galathil, Celeborn's brother, sitting on the doorstep of her mother's townhouse.  
  
"Hello, Auntie!" He jumped up, smiling broadly, and ran down the stairs to greet them.  
  
"Hello, yourself," said Eärwen dryly. "As you haven't voluntarily come to see me during any of my previous visits, I assume that you are here to see my daughter. Don't get her into any trouble." With that, she swept into the house. The servants followed with her luggage. As soon as the last of them was through the door, Galathil handed her a scroll of parchment. Artanis looked at the seal carefully before she opened it: an eight-pointed tree. That would have to be Celeborn, as she knew that Galadhon's was a ship and a star and Galathil was too young to have a signet ring.  
  
Celeborn only wrote what what he had written last time: that the Skerries were boring but not unpleasant, that he hoped that she and her family were well, that the ship was progressing well, and that he'd return soon to bring her to Middle Earth. No mention of Celebrimbor, she was amused to note. Still no mention that he had missed her. That was less amusing, but she'd expected that too.  
  
"So, anything romantic?" Galathil leered at her.  
  
Artanis glared back at him and wished him great heartache once he was old enough to notice. "Don't be dumb. I don't have sails or a hull. I'm amazed that your brother even notices me."  
  
Galathil laughed heartily at her.

* * *

A week after her return to Tirion, Finarfin found Artanis huddled in the window seat, looking out at the square in front of the house. "Enough of your moping." He clapped his hands. "Get packed, we're going to the Festival up on Taniquetil. And we're going to be late arrivals as it is."  
  
Artanis looked up, startled. "You mean that they're going to have the Festival again this year? With all the problems?"  
  
"Skipping it could only make things worse," her father replied briskly. "The Valar will water the wine, have lots of dances, break up fights before they start, and everyone will go home in a much better mood."  
  
The whole of Tirion seemed to agree that the Festival was the place to be. Much to Artanis' relief, everyone was dressed for a party. The weapons she had seen the Noldor carrying around Tirion lately were nowhere to be seen. There was music in the air, and she could already see people dancing in the meadow.  
  
Fingon came out to meet them, a wineglass in his hand. "Fëanor's here," he remarked, as he led them to the main house. "He was ordered to be. But he was spiteful about it, so he made the rest of them stay at Formenos."  
  
"He's usually so easy to spot." Finarfin craned his neck, looking around.  
  
"Not this time. To show everyone how much he doesn't want to be here, he's left the Silmarils at home."  
  
Artanis sighed. Her father's prediction that this Festival would make everyone forget the troubles seemed doomed already. Then the light of the Trees went out. 


	8. Chapter 8

A wail of horror went up from the assembled elves. Artanis' hackles rose; she had never heard anything like it before. On the other hand... where were the Trees? She turned towards them, but some shadow was billowing out from where they stood, blocking even the stars.  
  
"Wait here!" The voice belonged to one of the Vala, she realized, not Manwë, but another of them. Tulkas, perhaps? She could hear thundering hooves. Whoever, it was heading for the Trees, or the rapidly spreading darkness that flowed from the place that should have been the source of their usual glow. The darkness by now covered almost a third of the sky.  
  
"This is Melkor's doing!" Another voice, her Uncle Fëanor's.  
  
Artanis stepped back as the crowd began to cry out, individual questions and pleas drowned out by one another. There was a sharp hiss by her foot. Quickly, she bent down and picked up the little snake before anyone could step on it. "Sorry" she told it, looking around for a safe spot to move it to. The sky was almost half dark and she could not make out either the voices or the shapes of any of the Valar.  
  
The snake sighed. "I should have known better. I wanted to be unobtrusive and that's not always the most appropriate. I had no idea that the party would be this exciting." Artanis covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Of course Olórin would have been sneaking around the party, eavesdropping on the restless Noldor.  
  
She made the most of the situation. "A good thing that I was here to rescue you!"  
  
The snake glared at her with his little beady eyes. "A sudden change back to a larger form in the middle of this panic..."  
  
"Would be beneath your dignity." Artanis finished smoothly.  
  
Her father and uncles were shouting at the mob to be quiet, to calm down. Maiar moved through the crowd, comforting the elves and assuring them that everything would be alright soon. Only a small patch of sky to the west still had stars in it.  
  
"The stars are fine, just shrouded. The darkness will disperse soon," Artanis heard one of the Maiar say.  
  
"He didn't say anything about the Trees. Does this mean they're not fine?" She could hear the edge of panic in her own voice and hated it. The snake in her hands was silent.  
  
"Where have the Valar gone? Why did they leave us here?" demanded Fëanor of the Maia, invisible in the almost total darkness.  
  
Artanis turned from the last visible stars and began to make her way down the mountainside. She could hear Fëanor ranting behind her.  
  
"If you're going to go running off," growled Olórin, "At least have the wit to make a light. And don't drop me."

* * *

It would be a long walk to the Trees, Artanis realized and wasn't surprised when the Valar returned before she was a quarter of the way down the mountainside. The darkness had begun to ebb by then, and stars had returned to almost half of the sky. She could here the commotion above, but continued on. A little later, her father and brothers came riding down the path behind her, carrying lights of their own. Many other elves accompanied them. Not Fëanor, though, Artanis noted.  
  
"Didn't wish to hear your uncle exhort the crowd?" Finarfin asked her, knowing perfectly well she didn't. "Ah well, you didn't miss much." He passed her the reins of her horse. She pulled herself onto the saddle without assistance. They continued down Taniquetil into the darkness.  
  
More and more of the stars returned. Much to Artanis' relief, the darkness faded from the Trees before they arrived. But when she saw what was left of them, she wished that the darkness would return. They were solid and dark, almost like ordinary trees. The tiny pinpricks of the stars and the small lights carried by the elves were suddenly very inadequate. The Valar stood under the dying trees, and with them was Fëanor, his face dark with anger.  
  
"If you force me to give them up," he snarled, "I wouldn't be surprised. Melkor is one of you, after all."  
  
He was speaking of the Silmarils, Artanis realized, whose light had been gathered from the Trees themselves. If it could be restored to them... She looked up at Yavanna, who stroked the bark of Telperion, looking down at a hole into its roots.  
  
"We have little time, but I can still save them if you would only..."  
  
Her words were cut off by the clattering of hooves as more riders came up to the mound. The Noldor moved aside for them. Celebrimbor and Curufin, Artanis realized, with their hair in disarray and their horses soaked with sweat. They hadn't been at the Festival.  
  
"Father!" Celebrimbor called out. "Melkor... he came to Formenos... Grandfather's dead... and Melkor's got the Silmarils!"

* * *

Artanis and the others returned to Tirion, as Fëanor followed his sons back to Formenos. The lamp at the top of Ingw's tower was incredibly comforting to behold. It was the brightest light left in the world, Artanis realized miserably, now that the Trees were gone. Maybe Fëanor could make more lamps, she thought. She had left Olórin behind at the trees, but had no great hopes that he would be able to think of anything.  
  
Her mother handed her a letter wordlessly as they entered the house, then led her father away. Artanis noted the seal, then opened it.  
  
"Dear Artanis," Celeborn had written. "By the time you receive this, I should be in the harbor at Alqualondë. Please hurry."  
  
Artanis ran up to her room, started to pack, then ran to Finrod's room and pounded on the door. He opened it, looking tired and miserable. Artanis thrust the letter into his hands. He read it and sighed. "Just why can't he wait? You'd think that the world pretty much ending would slow some people down."  
  
"I'm worried about what King Olwë will do to him. I don't think he likes surprises."  
  
"There aren't a lot of natural harbors along the coast," Finrod commented, his brow furrowed. "Still, I think the timing is pretty bad. Look, let's just make sure everything's okay. A trip to Middle-Earth is going to take some planning, and we ought to wait."  
  
Artanis finished packing and ran downstairs to find her father. He was in his study, rubbing his face and sniffling. Artanis stopped in the doorway. Of course, he'd been crying, she realized with a shock. His own father had just been murdered. Before she could manage a tactful retreat, he looked up at her. "Yes, Artanis?" He managed, hoarsely.  
  
"Umm, I just wanted to tell you. Finrod and I need to go down to Alqualondë for a few days. Celeborn's come back."  
  
"I think you should wait. I'm delighted that Olwë has finally relented, but... things are a little serious here."  
  
"Ah, that's just it, sir. King Olwë hasn't relented. Celeborn built a ship and sailed back and I'm worried that the King will just lock him up or something."  
  
"Built a ship! How? Never mind." Finarfin sighed and wiped his face. "Go, find your mother. She'll sort this out."  
  
As Artanis, Finrod, and Eärwen prepared to go, a servant ran in. "Highness! They're gathering in the square. Prince Fëanor has returned!"  
  
Eärwen pulled open the curtains. The square in front of the house was filling with elves, and much to Artanis' dismay, most of them seemed to be wearing some kind of armor and carrying swords.  
  
"Bother," said Eärwen.  
  
"There's Uncle Fingolfin." Finrod pointed out the window. Sure enough, Fingolfin and his sons were coming out of their mansion next door. They had armor and weapons too. No Valar or Maiar in the crowd, though, at least not any that were visible.  
  
Fëanor climbed the stairs of Finw's empty mansion and turned to address the mob. "If we want the Silmarils back, if we want to avenge the murder of our king," he shouted, "We'll have to do it ourselves! The Valar won't do this for us. They won't even fight him for themselves. They're in council, I'm told. In council! Not on their way to Middle Earth. Middle Earth, where we should have been all along. But no, they're saving Middle Earth for something called Men, while they keep us here as pets!" The crowd began to cheer and shout Fëanor's name. Artanis retreated upstairs to her room.

* * *

A little while later, she heard a knock on her door. It was Finrod. "Our mad uncle, with some encouragement from the mob, has declared himself king and ordered us all to relocate to Middle Earth. All but the cowards and toadies that is."  
  
"He didn't!"  
  
"Name any names? No, but anyone who tries to stay behind will be judged a traitor to the Noldor. Dad's trying to persuade them at least to pack. Fëanor thought that was dumb. Look, we've got to get out there. As royalty ourselves, we have some obligations."  
  
Artanis nodded and shouldered the bags she had packed. She forced her way through the crowd toward the stairs of Finw's house. Fëanor, who was approaching the peak of his rant, drew his sword as she reached the bottom step. Artanis stopped short, but he wasn't even looking at her. She watched, horrified, as he swore to retrieve the Silmarils, from anyone, anywhere, who would keep them from him. It was an unbreakable oath, she realized, as one by one his sons came to his side and did the same. Her cousins suddenly seemed as dangerous to her as fallen Maiar. There would be no rest or peace for any of them now until the Silmarils were theirs again.  
  
"Artanis!" She almost jumped up the stairs as someone took her arm. It was Celebrimbor, grinning broadly and wearing all sorts of shining metal armor and a sword as long as he was tall.  
  
"You're mad! Do you know what you've just done?" It was Turgon's voice, booming from the doorway of his father's house. Fëanor and Maedhros started shouting back, and the milling crowd forced Artanis and Celebrimbor up the steps toward Fëanor and his sons. She could see her father trying to calm the section of the crowd near his house, but Finrod had climbed up onto Fingolfin's stairs and were shouting as well. Fëanor looked down at her and fell momentarily silent. Artanis realized that at least part of the crowd was looking at her.  
  
"Listen!" She cried out "I'm going to Middle Earth anyway... Part of my family got left back there... And I'd like to at least see it... But if you want to go, pack! Don't just troop off after... someone with nothing to eat and no plans of what to do when you get there, never mind how you're going to get there." To her astonishment, many of the elves staring up at her nodded. She realized she was still holding her bags. At least they'd helped her make her point.  
  
Fëanor began shouting again as soon as she paused for breath, and she took advantage of the distraction to bolt down the stairs and work her way back to her father's house.  
  
"You did well," Finarfin assured her. "Just about as well as anyone can under the circumstances. I'm afraid my brother can be difficult to resist when he's in this state, and has an angry mob mostly under his control. Just cooperate and do your best to buy time."  
  
But I meant it, she thought and did not say.  
  
Fëanor had worked his way over to the steps of Fingolfin's house and the two camps of the Noldor seemed to be reaching some agreement. Finarfin went over to make sure that they did eventually agree on something, and the twins went with him.  
  
"I see that you are ready to go." Eärwen looked at her daughter, still carrying her bags. "Well, no better time than the present, and I think your father is better off dealing with this himself."  
  
They left by the eastern gate while the Noldor argued.

* * *

"Mother, how does Fëanor plan to get to Middle Earth?" Artanis finally asked.  
  
"Left that part out, didn't he? I can think of only one good way, and I hope they've all calmed down before they work it out." Eärwen said grimly, and ordered the coachman to make all possible haste to Alqualondë, as best he could by starlight.  
  
It was either the ships or the ice, Artanis realized. No one but Valar or Maiar had ever dared the ice, and the Teleri wanted no part of Noldorin troubles. This could not end well. 


	9. Chapter 9

Artanis burst out of the coach as soon as it pulled up to their townhouse in Alqualondë. "You be back here in one hour!" her mother called after her. Artanis nodded, but kept running toward the harbor, wondering how she would be able to keep track of the time now that the Trees had gone out.  
  
As she sprinted up to the starlit quayside, her heart fell. Each of the docks had a swan ship rocking gently beside it. Which one was Celeborn's? Most of them were dark, but the deck of one was lit by torches and elves moved about it. As Artanis ran towards it, she noticed two stern-looking Teleri wearing the King's livery standing on its dock. As she turned onto the dock and approached the ship, they moved to block the gangplank.  
  
"Artanis!" a voice called above her. She looked up and a rope dropped over the ship's railing beside her. She seized it as the King's men started towards her. Celeborn pulled her up onto the ship's deck and threw his arms around her. Startled, she tensed up, and he released her, backing up nervously. Embarrassed, she glanced down at the King's men, one of whom was heading back towards the quay and the other of whom glared back at her.  
  
"Ah, is everything all right?" Celeborn asked her.  
  
"Aside from the world going completely mad, everything is fine." Artanis said firmly, turning to face him. He nodded and swallowed. "It's good that you're back," she managed awkwardly. He nodded again.  
  
Celeborn's dogs emerged from somewhere below the deck, barking, and ran to them. Celeborn managed to tackle one of them, but the other jumped up on Artanis. She grabbed it by the nose and made it lie on its back, which it did meekly, whining and licking at her.  
  
"Are you ever going to train these things?" she demanded.  
  
"Actually, they're pretty good retrievers now... but I haven't really had time." Celeborn changed the subject. "Are you ready to go? My mother... and Galathil aren't, but I can always come back for 'em." He looked back at the quayside. "Where's your mad cousin?"  
  
"Off with his mad grandfather on his way to Araman, I hope." Celeborn raised his eyebrows at this and Artanis hurried on, "But we should wait for my father and brothers, and my other cousins, Fingolfin's sons. The Noldor want to go to Middle Earth to try and get Fëanor's Silmarils back."  
  
Celeborn stared at her for a moment, then sent one of the mariners who was doing something with the ropes to go fetch wine instead. Artanis explained about Melkor and the Trees and the Silmarils.  
  
"So that's what happened to the Trees. We hoped that they had just been covered up or something. Most everyone had gone to the King's hall to wait for news, which is why almost no one is here now. But what of Fëanor?"  
  
"Headed north, using the path that Melkor took, but I don't see how he can get to Melkor this side of the Ice. And what if he does? Melkor's a Vala, and even that sword won't help Fëanor."  
  
"Might help him get himself killed," Celeborn remarked flatly, and poured wine for both of them. "This is a little more complicated than I expected."  
  
"Sorry," Artanis sat down on a box on the deck. The dogs flopped down on either side of her. "I promise it wasn't my idea. I take it that you can't exactly pick up passengers here. The King is still mad at you?"  
  
"Something like that." Celeborn pulled up another box and opened a scroll case. He selected one particular scroll and unrolled it, laying it on the deck between them. Much to Artanis' delight, it proved to be a detailed map of the northeastern coast of Valinor. The nearest dog sniffed at it with no great enthusiasm.  
  
"Not that much decent harborage to the north." Celeborn remarked, tracing the shoreline with his forefinger.  
  
"These are Galadhon's, aren't they? I thought he wouldn't even let anyone see them!" Artanis peered at the remaining maps in the scroll case. Rather like Fëanor and his Silmarils, she thought.  
  
"These are only copies," Celeborn fetched out another, of the southern coasts.  
  
"He let you copy them? He wouldn't even let Finrod copy them!"  
  
"Nor the King's scribes either. Let's just say I never brought it up."  
  
"You mean, he never caught you," Artanis retorted. Celeborn shrugged.  
  
"Artanis, come down from there!" Artanis looked up. Her grandfather and her mother stood on the dock below, with a small flock of Teleri around them. King Olwë was scowling, but Eärwen's face was neutral.  
  
Artanis stood and waved at them. Celeborn sighed irritably.  
  
"You may come back tomorrow morning," Eärwen declared. Olwë glared at her, but said nothing.  
  
Celeborn thrust another scroll into her hand. The name "Galathil" was written on the outside. She nodded and walked down the gangplank.

* * *

Artanis wolfed down her breakfast, and headed towards the harbor to bring Galathil his letter. Much to her relief, he was hanging out of his open window, so there was no need for her to enter the house and deal with her aunt and uncle.  
  
"I heard you'd arrived last night, and gone to see my brother, and created a huge ruckus!" Galathil declared enthusiastically.  
  
"You can thank the King for the ruckus; I had nothing to do with it." Artanis passed him the scroll. He opened it hastily and his face fell as he scanned it.  
  
"He's leaving soon." Galathil told her mournfully. "You get to go with him, don't you?"  
  
"I don't see how they can stop me," Artanis told him, "But we should be back pretty soon, and even if you have to wait a few more years, we can always return for you."  
  
"I know." Galathil rubbed his eyes and refrained from sniffling. "Mum will have to let me see him off though. He says about noon. How am I to know when it's noon?"  
  
Artanis simply nodded, unsure of what to say to him.

* * *

This time, she walked past the King's servants and up the gangplank. Celeborn was up on deck, waiting for her and eating breakfast. She shook her head when he offered her a plate.  
  
The dogs were on leashes tied to the railing. They barked at her and wagged their tails frantically. She walked over and patted them while Celeborn ate.  
  
"I've got a possible harbor, here to the south, and I've copied the map for your relatives," Celeborn told her once he'd finished.  
  
"I suppose they're on their way up north right now," Artanis told him.  
  
"Well, they'd better not try the ice on foot. I wouldn't even sail up that way."  
  
"Isn't the Sea narrower up there?"  
  
"It is, but the ice floating on it isn't all that thick and it isn't just one piece. The waves lift the sheets of ice up and down, and eventually they break, and pieces, huge pieces, pile on top of one another, or just float away. You don't want to be walking around on it when that happens. And a ship can be rammed and sunk by a floating piece of ice, or frozen into a sheet of ice on a cold night."  
  
Artanis tried to estimate the size of the crowd that had gathered in Tirion the day before. "But it will take forever to bring the Noldor to Middle Earth. We really need more ships. Would any of the other captains be willing to help us?"  
  
Celeborn shook his head, "The captains are a pretty conservative lot. A lot of them have kin left behind in Middle Earth, but they don't talk about them much anymore... not since my father's last attempt to get back there. You might want to have your mother ask some of them, but very discreetly. I don't think that the King likes that kind of talk."  
  
He pulled out a map of the southern coast and set it on the top of the barrel from which his breakfast dishes had been cleared away. Artanis leaned over and found the potential harbor that Celeborn had marked.  
  
Celeborn bent over her and tapped it with his forefinger. "If your cousins can meet me down here..." he began. Artanis reddened when his hair brushed the back of her neck. Celeborn once again pulled back from her, equally embarrassed. "Sorry... " he managed.  
  
"Captain!" called the mariner on lookout. Celeborn and Artanis turned away from the map.  
  
A contingent of elves was heading towards the harbor. Most of them were leading horses and many were wearing armor. They were Noldor... with Fëanor in the lead. Artanis' heart sank. He must have left Tirion even before herself and her mother and headed north only long enough to realize that Melkor had already crossed the ice. A night of hard riding had brought him to Alqualondë. And now he was here.  
  
Celebrimbor emerged from the crowd and rushed to Celeborn's ship, waving and grinning broadly. He was still wearing his armor and sword, Artanis noticed. "Hello, Artanis, fancy meeting you here! We had the same idea! Celeborn, my grandfather wants to talk to you."  
  
Celeborn looked over at her. Artanis shook her head. Celeborn sighed and started down the gangplank. Reluctantly, Artanis fell into step beside him. Fëanor's host began to break apart and armed elves headed down each of the docks onto the swan ships.  
  
The houses on the quay had their windows open and unshuttered, and the Teleri within them stared out at Fëanor.  
  
"Captains and mariners," Fëanor called out to them. "I petition you to bear us to Middle Earth, where we may succor your kinsmen against the evil that has returned to it. Melkor, no, Morgoth, has finally shown his colors. He has slain the two Trees, and my father, Finwë, your friend."  
  
"The King has forbidden us to take you to Middle Earth," declared a broad- shouldered Teleri wearing a silver circlet. "You rebel against the Valar, just as Melkor did. But you can still turn back and should!"  
  
"What of your kin? Of your true king, Elwë?" Fëanor called out.  
  
The broad-shouldered Telerin captain leaned out and pulled his shutters closed. Artanis could hear him slam the window within. Slamming sounds echoed up and down the quay as the other Teleri in the houses along it did the same.  
  
Fëanor went white with rage. "Take the ships!" he called out to the Noldor who had already boarded the swan ships.  
  
Celeborn turned and began to run back to his ship, but Celebrimbor tackled him from behind. Artanis grabbed Celebrimbor by the shoulders and yanked him off Celeborn. But when she looked up, her cousin Celegorm loomed in front of them, with a sword in his hand and an unpleasant smile on his face. His wolfhound, Huan, who stood as tall at the shoulder as Celegorm himself, snarled at them.  
  
"Cut her loose!" Celeborn shouted to his crew. Frantically they began to do so.  
  
Artanis looked around, but as the Teleri emerged from their houses and started running for their ships, the Noldor drew their swords and stabbed them.  
  
Celeborn tried to jump off the dock into the water, but Celegorm grabbed him. Celegorm was a big fellow, even for a Noldo, and if he set Huan on them, they hadn't a chance. Artanis began to back away.  
  
"Watch out, Artanis!" cried Celebrimbor, and barreled into her, knocking her down as arrows began flying from the upper windows of the houses along the way. The Teleri were firing on the Noldor using hunting bows, Artanis realized. And like deer or birds, the Noldor died as the arrows pieced them. She cringed down next to Celeborn as Fëanor's host began to retreat down the docks, trying to take cover between the ships.  
  
Most of the swan ships were now adrift and she could hear screams and blows from their decks. Almost all of them must have been manned by some sort of skeleton crew. Someone was thrown into the water from the ship beside Celeborn's: a Noldo, wearing metal armor. As she watched, he sank and did not come back up.  
  
Celegorm lifted his hunting horn to his lips and sounded it three times.  
  
There was a splash. Artanis looked around at Celeborn's ship. The oars were out, and the mariners were backing it into the harbor, but one of Celeborn's dogs had chewed itself loose from its leash and was swimming towards the dock.  
  
Celegorm noticed it as well. "Huan," he shouted. Huan leaped off the dock and swam to Celeborn's struggling dog. Huan seized the other dog by the throat and began to shake it. Celeborn cried out and struggled in Celegorm's grasp but it was no good. Celegorm and Huan both held on to their prey. When Celegorm called on Huan to return, it released the other dog, which floated away limply.  
  
"Celebrimbor, keep an eye on these two. Dad would take it amiss if anything happened to either of them." With these words, Celegorm dropped Celeborn back on the dock and headed towards the main battle. Huan, dripping, loped after him.  
  
As Celebrimbor backed away from them and drew his sword, Celeborn tackled him around the waist, knocking him down. Artanis grabbed Celebrimbor's sword.  
  
As she turned back towards the shore, several of the Noldor, running from the arrows, came at her. Artanis lifted the sword, but one of them didn't notice it or was running too fast or just didn't have room to dodge and crashed into her, knocking her over. Celeborn pulled her out from under him, but it was too late. The armor, made for show rather than for protection, had failed to deflect the sword, which had gone through a badly- placed joint. The fallen Noldo stared at the sky through empty eyes.  
  
The remaining Noldor had reached the end of the dock and turned around. Artanis and Celeborn sprinted towards the shore. 


	10. Chapter 10

_What has gone before: Before the birth of the sun and the moon, long before she became Galadriel, Artanis was born into the bliss of Valinor. As she comes of age, Fëanor has created strife among the elves, Melkor has murdered an elven king and destroyed the Two Trees, and Artanis and a young exile named Celeborn seek to escape to Middle Earth. In the meantime, Fëanor and his mob have attacked the harbor where Celeborn's ship is docked, stranding them, and Artanis' cousin Celebrimbor needs to decide whose side he's on._  
  
Artanis ran for the quay, but another wave of Noldor ran toward her. An arrow from one of the houses passed less than a hands-breadth from her face, and she finally ducked behind a pile of crates, cursing. Celeborn was no longer beside her, she realized. The Noldor ran past her. She looked around the crates and saw that Fëanor's troops had set fire to the houses on the quay. Bloodied bodies littered the street and the dock.  
  
A group of Noldor with drawn blades kicked down the door of one of the burning houses and charged in. Frantically, she looked around for Celeborn. He'd made it almost to the end of the dock, but two Noldor with swords were menacing him and he was unarmed. She ran toward him, but heard the Noldor on the dock behind her charging back. She turned and realized that she no longer held the sword that she had scavenged earlier; it had been left in the body of the elf she had killed. The Noldor pursuing her did have swords, and were waving them as they ran, their faces obscured by their bizarre helmets. She turned again and bolted for the burning quayside.  
  
At the end of the street, the Noldor were being charged by elves in the livery of the Telerin king, Olwë, carrying billhooks, spears, anything large and sharp that had been available. She tried to circle back towards Celeborn, but Fëanor and a couple of his sons, Curufin and Caranthir, were the way, herding Celeborn back down the dock with their drawn swords.  
  
"Cowards!" a voice shouted behind her. Artanis ducked behind a fallen horse and rider before looking around. Fëanor turned slowly, his sword raised. A massive figure strode between two of the houses, crowned with brilliant white hair. It was Galadhon, Artanis realized, Celeborn's father, the reclusive Teleri prince rumored to be more antisocial than Fëanor himself. He carried some kind of weighted club in one hand, swinging it as he walked. "Try me, will you?" Galadhon roared. "I'm a bit more of a challenge than these poor lubbers."  
  
Curufin grinned. ""No," he declared, "You're even easier." He lifted his free hand and a bright flashing shape sped from it to strike Galadhon in the throat, releasing a spray of blood. The big elf fell, struggled to rise once, and fell again, blood spurting from his neck. Celeborn howled and tried to dive between Curufin and Caranthir, but was struck from behind by Celebrimbor and did not get up. Curufin walked over to Galadhon and removed his blade from the corpse. Helpless to stop them, Artanis huddled down among the bodies.  
  
Celegorm ran up from the battle at the far end of the street. "We've got to get those ships in; they've got us pinned! We've lost too many men!"  
  
"I keep saying..." Celebrimbor began.  
  
"Yes, and it's a fine idea." Fëanor interrupted him. "With their heir gone to the Halls of Mandos, it has become even better." He bent down and hoisted Celeborn's limp form over his shoulder. Much to Artanis' relief, Celeborn seemed to be breathing, although there was blood on his hair and his face. Artanis pried the dead rider's sword from his grasp and waited for them to turn their backs on her.  
  
With loud cries, the knot of battling elves at the far end of the street broke apart and Telerin arrows started flying down the street. Celebrimbor lifted his horn to his lips and blew again. A crowd of armed Teleri began to make their way down the street, firing arrows ahead of them. Artanis ducked back down.  
  
The horn sounded again followed by more cries and the sound of metal striking metal. She looked up again. Fëanor, his sons, and Celebrimbor had retreated down the dock, but more armed Noldor had ridden into the city and were cutting down the Teleri from behind. Several of the burning houses on the quay had collapsed. With a cry of dismay, Artanis sprang up from her hiding place and started after Fëanor.  
  
Hooves thundered down the street behind her. "Artanis!" She whirled around. Fingon loomed above her on his horse, a bloodied sword in his hand. Instinctively, Artanis lifted her sword to block him. He laughed. "It's only me! The Teleri, they've gone mad! One of them tried to hit me with a rolling pin!"  
  
"And you killed him for it, didn't you?! You murdered him!" Artanis' voice seemed strangely shrill to her own ears.  
  
Fingon's look of shock only made her angrier. "Artanis... What's... What are you..."  
  
Maedhros and several other mounted Noldor rode up beside him. "Well done!" Maedhros congratulated his cousin. "We almost had to run for it there. They were really fighting back! And not a sword or a breastplate among 'em! I'm not looking forward to fighting Melkor's troops, I tell you!"  
  
"Hello, Artanis!" Maedhros looked down at her. "Came to help, did you? Did they get your horse?" She stared back at him, wordlessly.  
  
Fëanor, on the dock ahead of them, held Celeborn out over the water by his the back of his tunic. Celeborn hung limply in his grip, his bright silver hair shining in the moonlight. "Bring your ships back in!" Fëanor shouted, "Or I'll drown your prince as you've drowned my men!"  
  
Artanis growled and started to rush towards him, but Celebrimbor called out: "Artanis, no!" Caranthir and Celegorm turned towards her and moved between her and Fëanor.  
  
A voice with a Telerin accent called back from one of the ships. "Ossë can taste our blood in the waves even now! He and Ulmo will avenge us!"  
  
Fëanor laughed loudly and unpleasantly. "Where are they then? Why aren't the Valar and the Maiar here to protect you? Perhaps you just aren't that important to them. Bring those ships in!"  
  
"What-what are you doing?" Fingon's voice was shaking. "Look... uncle. Just pass the boy over here. You can all come back now... We'll sort this out." He began to move towards Fëanor, but Caranthir and Celegorm blocked his way.  
  
Behind them, the remainder of Fëanor's contingent was moving down the dock, many of them being helped or carried by comrades.  
  
Maedhros also interposed himself between Fingon and Fëanor. "Fingon, you'd better get back to the baggage train. Take Artanis with you. Tell them... things got a bit messed up. We'll bring the ships along the shore and get you and the on board up north. Olw's still up on the hill, and he's got more Teleri with him... and they've had plenty of time to plot another ambush."  
  
Celeborn stirred and twitched weakly. Fëanor did not relinquish his hold. Artanis started to push past Celegorm, but Fingon latched onto her arm and called out to Fëanor: "Look, that Teleri kid is in a bad way. Let me bring him, and the others badly wounded back... we've got a couple of good healers just an hour behind us."  
  
"I need him," Fëanor said without turning around. "Unless you've any idea how to sail these ships on the high seas. Or how to navigate 'em. Can't row all the way to Middle Earth." His tone was calm.  
  
Artanis let out a little yelp of rage and lunged towards him, but Maedhros helped Fingon drag her back. Celeborn had manage to lift his head a little and grab on to Fëanor's arm. Artanis could see that Celeborn's eyes were unfocused. Fëanor drew him in and held his bloodied sword to Celeborn's throat.  
  
"Celegorm, secure his hands." Fëanor said smoothly. One of the swan ships drew up to the dock. "Gangplank down!" Fëanor roared at them. "Or the boy will start having even more trouble breathing!" The ship let down its gangplank, and Caranthir and a squad of other Noldor charged aboard.  
  
"Artanis, we've got to go." Fingon tried to push her onto his horse. He muttered, "None of my men are down this far; they're guarding the street. We've got to leave. Listen, he can't kill the kid, he said so himself. Not if he wants to get to Middle Earth. But you know Fëanor, if he thinks he's about to be thwarted... well, you know what he's like. We'll pry the boy free on the other side."  
  
Surrounded by Fëanor's men, more groups arriving from the town as others boarded swan ships, Artanis let Fingon push her onto the horse's back. Fingon jumped up behind her. Celeborn managed to squirm around enough to look at her before Fingon wheeled the horse around and cantered back up the dock.

* * *

Clouds boiled up from somewhere, obscuring the stars that were now Valinor's only light, aside from burning houses and torches up on the hill by Olw's palace. Despite Artanis' protests, Fingon would go nowhere near the palace. Instead, he and his men picked their way through town, guided only by such small lights as they could summon themselves. A few blocks from the harbor, Artanis heard a voice calling her name, and tried to struggle free from her cousin's grasp.  
  
"Up there," called one of Fingon's men, pointing. Artanis heart sank as she recognized Galadhon's house, with the door smashed in. Several Noldor lay dead in the street in front of the house, with arrows sticking out of them. Several more lay dead and bloodied on the steps and in the doorway. Galathil leaned out the window. A couple of the Noldor raised their bows and nocked arrows.  
  
"No" Artanis cried out, jumping off the horse and running towards the door.  
  
Swearing, Fingon leapt off behind her. "Hold your fire and stay here!" he roared as he followed her.  
  
Artanis tripped over a body. It was pitch dark inside the house, but it wore a long dress of fine cloth. "Galathil!" she shouted. She heard thumping sounds ahead of her, and then someone ran into her from behind. She yelped and jabbed with her elbow.  
  
"Enough! It's me!" Fingon protested, stepping back.  
  
"Are you there?" called Galathil from further inside the room.  
  
"Follow the wall and head for the door," Artanis told them, doing so herself. "Galathil... don't go in the middle of the room."  
  
They emerged cautiously. Fingon's men had sheathed their swords and lowered their bows, much to Artanis' relief. When Galathil came out behind her, she seized his hand and drew him to her. The boy embraced her, sniffling and gazing fearfully at the Noldor.  
  
"What are we supposed to do with him?" demanded Fingon, glaring down at the young Telerin prince.  
  
"His parents are dead, and his mother's killers," Artanis gestured at the bodies in the doorway, "are wearing your livery under their armor. Unless you want to bring him back to Olwë, I've got to get him back to... my father, I guess."  
  
Artanis realized with a shock that she had no idea if her mother were alright. She had always seen Eärwen as invincible, omnipotent even. But the carnage in Alqualondë was beyond all of her previous experience and imagination. She swallowed hard. "We have to get back to my father," she repeated.

* * *

Galathil was too far in shock to ask after his brother and Artanis did not have the strength to speak as they rode back to the main body of the Noldor seeking to migrate to Middle Earth. Rain began to fall and thunder rolled off in the distance. Artanis could see lightning far out to sea.  
  
Finrod was with the riders who rode out to meet them. "What happened?" he demanded.  
  
Fingon shook his head. "Things... went wrong. Really wrong. The Teleri said no... Fëanor didn't want to hear it."  
  
"But the ships," Finarfin began, "I saw them myself. They're just off the coast, heading north..."  
  
"Fëanor stole them. He killed the Teleri and stole them." Artanis snarled.  
  
Finrod stared at her, open-mouthed. "Ossë let..."  
  
"The Valar and the Maiar are probably still chasing Melkor. And I don't know where mother is..." Artanis' tears choked her and she began to sob.  
  
Finrod helped her and Galathil off Fingon's horse. "Couldn't you stop them?" he demanded of Fingon.  
  
Fingon looked back, shamefaced. "When we arrived... Celebrimbor had winded his horn, calling for help, and the Teleri were cutting down Fëanor's people and turned on us. We..."  
  
"Helped Fëanor." Finrod finished grimly. "You idiot."  
  
Fingon hung his head.  
  
Finrod put Artanis and Galathil on his horse and led it back towards the camp. "Some Teleri came looking for you, including one of those raggedy fellows with the timber rafts that we met a few months ago. They're back at camp, waiting."  
  
These were some of Celeborn's mariners, Artanis realized, who had been waiting in Valinor. She nodded and went to meet her father. 


	11. Author Notes

**Author Notes**

Not just Marnie (7/1): Sorry Celeborn was so helpless this chapter; Fëanor was taking no chances with him. He'll get his own sections later on in the story; it makes sense from here on out to have him and Artanis swap as viewpoint characters.  
  
Marnie (5/28): There's no war like civil war. Hope you're feeling better. Happy belated birthday, by the way. I figured that the characters in any good story should evolve a bit, which is why I insist on starting with an unsympathetic Huan. Fëanor's a great villain for me. I've never had such an easy time writing a character this malevolent: so evil he just paralyzes or corrupts everyone around him.  
  
Itarille (5/26): I'm not sure that "nice" is a word to use about the Kinslaying, but you are clearly made of sterner stuff than I am! Glad you're enjoying it.  
  
Nevdoiel (5/25): ???!  
  
Melkor (5/24): Hopefully, the action remains fierce enough. I'll try and keep up the pace.  
  
(5/24): It seems that ending mid-Kinslaying was unavoidable. Oh well, at least the story is writing itself at this point.  
  
Itarille (5/19): Thanks! I'm glad that Ossë stood out. Politics with a hereditary aristocracy with magical abilities is bound to be a little weird and certainly personality-driven, so I'm trying to keep that side of the story as up-front as possible.  
  
Marnie (5/19): Glad someone else enjoys poor nerdish Celebrimbor. Too bad about the appalling macho influence of his family though. The Noldor (and Calaquendi in general) are a really weird mix of dangerous and vulnerable at this stage.  
  
(5/19): Apologies for the short and belated chapter, but ending the next one mid-Kinslaying might be problematic. Still no Celeborn (except on paper), so I guess I'll have to give him parts of the next chapters. I've also done some edits on chapter 7; sorry about that. Had at least one ugly typo to deal with.  
  
Melkor (5/14): Thanks for the encouragement. I'm a little frustrated with Celeborn for getting himself exiled, as it makes writing the relationship that much more difficult.  
  
Marnie (5/5): The system just cares if I add a new chapter, and I can't title it until the end. I think the first chapter of the next story will be author notes, but this one has about three chapters left, I think. I'm trying to give people fair warning about Fingon before it gets ugly (next chapter). I'll be very sad if you give up on Unforsaken; it's great fun so far. I suppose the main idea is for you to enjoy yourself; hopefully that is what you're doing. Guess I'd better go review some more to encourage you. There will be more Galathil, much more. You should write more of Unforsaken because I'm afraid my version only gets darker from here on out. I'm not on any but professional and local mailing lists and don't know much about the fanfic ones.  
  
Itarille (4/23): Hopefully Olorin's strange friend is entertaining for you as well. Thanks for the encouragement.  
  
Marnie (4/23): Thanks for getting me some readers. I finally donated some money to ff.net, so they're keeping track of the numbers; about 350 hits in the last week or so! About 150 people read chapter one, but only a third that number read chapter two, so the story seems to be hard to get into. Happily, I am writing for my own amusement! Readers may prefer something simpler, and I'm assuming that everyone remembers the whole cast of the Silmarillion.  
  
Marnie (4/21): Sorry about the long delay, but my life is in a bit of flux right now. I need to better understand the way ff.net handles updates; my mistakes probably interfered with notification. If you want to reformat "The Treadmill" for your site, go for it. Alternatively, I can reformat my existing Word files into rich text and thus into fairly clean HTML and e- mail it to you. I'm writing to preserve my own sanity, but I appreciate that you're making it available for other people's enjoyment. Olorin is another character who seems to be writing himself. Sorry I haven't been reviewing regularly; thanks to you and the others, I now realize how helpful a good review is.  
  
Feather (3/29): I found Celebrimbor a disturbingly sympathetic young nerd as soon as I started writing him. I'm amazed the way the characters suddenly start defining themselves when I write. As a reader, I'd always imagined Celebrimbor to be a square-jawed, forceful handsome fellow, as he's often written in fanfiction. Then when I began to write the first chapter, he turned out to be shy, insecure, and not at all athletic. It was a bit sad because I then started to like him so much more and we all know that his story is an unhappy one. I had assumed that Finarfin was shy and quiet but he turned out to be terribly manipulative and ironic. I fear the second Finarfin will make a somewhat more effective king. Wish I could get Eärwen some more screen time. Thanks for the compliments. Hope I can live up to them!  
  
Marnie (1/8): As for Celebrimbor trying to attract Artanis' attention, I think that's what blowing up the dam was about. These kids are young, about 16 in human terms, and part of a culture that wants to keep them children as long as possible.  
  
Itarille (1/7): Thanks! I'm glad to hear from readers that the plot is okay since I feel it's a little slow.  
  
Marnie (12/6): I couldn't get around the fact that building and crewing a ship require a lot of people, many of them experienced, and it gets him into so much more trouble. Celebrimbor is headed for a lot worse than just trouble. You are welcome to put this storyon your website, especially as I've finally corrected a few older typos.  
  
stearchica (12/6): Finarfin's been surprisingly fun. Wish I could do more with Eärwen. As for the names, see the note at the start of chapter 1. Stories with the original Quenya names, if the cast is large, are hard to read.  
  
Itarille (12/4): Took a while to sort out the outline (the original chapter 5 was pretty dumb), but I fear that the Kinslaying will just about write itself. I'm struggling with the love triangle, but there the characters are struggling back. I'll see what I can do next chapter.  
  
Itarille (12/2): Much thanks! The great thing about Celeborn as a Teleri of Aman is that I can then use him as a foil for the young Artanis and Celebrimbor in what seemed to me to be interesting days.  
  
Marnie (12/2): Don't give up on your Alqualondë story! You're actually tackling identity issues and the sort of issues that are tough to combine with plot! But you've done it before and I'm sure that you can do it again! I guess I'd better go review it like a responsible net.citizen...  
  
(12/2) Must go off traveling and abandon you all for a while, but I'm running out of outline and had better refresh that if I'm going to write any further.  
  
Marnie (12/1): I'm afraid I've made up a lot of the politics. Tolkien was having so much fun with the language that he didn't get a chance to flesh them out. I'm just trying to identify and follow up on his major themes, and this part of the story seems to be about how the Elves divide and conquer themselves for Morgoth. As for Celeborn: you know him too well, I fear. Your story actually galvanized me to haul my outline out of a file cabinet it's been sitting in for three years. Many thanks for the kind words about the pace; I was worried that it was a little too slow.  
  
Erunyauve (11/23): About Galadriel being silent about the Kinslaying in front of Melian, I doubt it was just to protect the sons of Fëanor. Fingon was also guilty, and he was very popular with all of the Noldor. The political fallout for telling Thingol about the Kinslaying could have been a lot worse than it ended up (just the banning of Quenya and probably the major reason Thingol never offered the Noldor significant resources against Morgoth), and Galadriel would have to be crazy to be the obvious architect of that disaster. In my version, it gets more complicated still. Something I want to work into this story, but it's still a long way to the Kinslaying and further yet to Doriath.  
  
I was very intrigued by Tolkien's later insistence (a bit shrill at times) that Celeborn was a prince of Alqualondë. It later grew into the story of Galadriel leaving Middle Earth separately from Fëanor; but it predated that story. In fact, that's the version of canon I'm working on, the "philological essay" described on pp. 229-231 of Unfinished Tales (hardcover) that Christopher Tolkien implied could not be done (getting Galadriel and Celeborn to Middle Earth separately).  
  
I can't make Olwë too nice; if he were a responsible kinsman, he'd make sure Celeborn was never driven to leave Aman. Can't have that! Even Finarfin seems to have a turn for vicious gossip; but it comes in awfully handy for purposes of exposition.  
  
(11/20) Sorry, Marnie, I had to steal your idea of making Galadhon Olwë's nephew; it just made too much sense in light of the Noldorin taboo on first cousins marrying.  
  
U2LoVeR (11/16): Thanks for the encouragement!  
  
Erunyauve (11/13): Thanks for your comments. I'll have to read a few of your stories once I get some time: they look diverse and interesting. It's not politic for Olòrin to experiment with human form yet.


End file.
